


Keep the Magic Secret

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, BAMF Merlin, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Magic Revealed, Minor Character Death, Secrets, Sneaking Around, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 73,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Someone tells Arthur about the legends of Emrys, an all-powerful warlock whose destiny is to protect Arthur and his kingdom and help bring about an age of peace. He is told that Emrys is someone close to him, and has hidden his identity and trials over the years to protect himself and make sure he can continue on at Arthur's side. When Arthur asks who it is, the person turns to Arthur and shrewdly asks: "Arthur, who do you want it to be?" ... Arthur's mind automatically goes to Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the [kink meme](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/33344.html?thread=40251200#t40251200). Thanks to everyone who followed there, I enjoyed reading all your comments as I went along! More thanks to [mibbit chat](http://client00.chat.mibbit.com/?server=irc.Mibbit.Net&channel=#gsd_fandom) and friends for the GSD sessions and keeping me on task with this. Even more thanks to [Vaughntronic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vaughntronic) for the quick beta ♥
> 
> This fic really was just an excuse for me to rewrite series 5 the way I wish it had gone...

Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He was meant to be listening to the pleas of this woman, whose village had been suddenly overrun with a nasty illness of some sort, and who evidently felt the need to describe it in great detail—right down to the colour of the boils—but Arthur’s mind was elsewhere. It commonly was when he was forced to sit in his hard-seated throne, with nothing but the petty requests of the citizens buzzing in his ears.

They weren’t all petty, of course. Arthur did care for his people, and there was the occasional bandit raid or harvest miscalculation that needed stricter attention, but in this case Arthur would probably end up simply sending Gaius. The only thing keeping Arthur from cutting off this woman now was the fact that it gave him a chance to let his mind wander.

Because he _couldn’t stop thinking about it_.

Arthur dared to let his gaze drift away from the woman before him and over the faces of the court. One of them was a liar, Arthur was sure of it. At first he had thought perhaps it was a knight, or a commoner, but more likely it was one of the people here, one of his closest advisors, someone on his council.

One of them was a sorcerer.

A little ways behind him, Merlin cleared his throat, and Arthur blinked, bringing his attention back to the pleading woman. Apparently she had finished speaking.

“I see,” Arthur said. “One of the guards will escort you to the court physician. Tell him everything you’ve told me and he will go to your village as soon as he’s found a treatment.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, rising to her feet. One of the guards by the door followed her out and another one quickly stepped up to take his place.

“Is that the last of them?” Arthur muttered to Gwen beside him.

“I believe so.”

Arthur heaved a sigh of relief and pushed himself up from his chair, the momentum taking him down the short stairs and halfway through the hall. Gwen was at his side in a moment, taking his hand and finishing the exit with him. Merlin’s light, hurried footsteps followed after them.

“Something on your mind, sire?” Merlin asked after they’d cleared the main corridors and were nearing the royal rooms.

Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. It really wasn’t very kingly behaviour. “Nothing that can’t wait until we’re in the privacy of my rooms, _Mer_ lin.”

“Ah. That sort of something.”

Gwen snickered.

Arthur nearly snapped his neck from whipping his head around so fast, only to be met with Merlin’s insolent smirk. “ _Not_ that sort of something, Merlin. Don’t you have armour to be polishing?”

Merlin either didn’t believe it or didn’t fall for it. Or he was just that insufferably impertinent, because even throughout his next words the devious smile never left his face.

“If not that, then what, sire?”

“Something much more serious.” Arthur turned forward again, rolling his tense shoulders. “And not to be spoken of where someone might hear.”

“Oh. Hmm.”

Arthur sighed. He could practically hear the wheels turning in Merlin’s head as he no doubt tried to puzzle it out before Arthur could even tell him.

“I’ll join you in a moment, Arthur,” Gwen said, letting go of his hand when they reached her chambers. “Let me change into something a bit less regal. I assume if this matter is troubling, you do want my company as well?”

Arthur hesitated only three seconds, but in those three seconds his mind raced. It was true he could trust Gwen, as his queen and confidant, but a matter such as this, a matter of treason and sorcery, Arthur would usually talk to solely Merlin first. Only after consulting his lover would he take it to Gwen.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “I think your thoughts on the subject would prove enlightening as always.”

Gwen smiled. “Then I shall change into my enlightening clothes.”

“Sire!” Merlin called from down the corridor where he’d gone ahead. “Come on! You have to tell me that thing!”

Arthur groaned as Gwen slipped into her room. Gods forbid Merlin ever have a secret of his own to keep. It seemed he was only barely capable of keeping Arthur’s.

“Merlin, you clotpole!”

“That’s my word!”

“And it suits you perfectly,” Arthur muttered.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

There was something going on with Arthur, and Merlin could only guess as to what it was. It was hardly rare for Arthur’s mind to drift elsewhere in the middle of holding court, but for his mind to be so thoroughly preoccupied that he didn’t notice when someone stopped speaking? Whatever it was, it had to be important.

Merlin wanted to know.

So of course, because Arthur was an insufferable prat, after Merlin undressed him and put him into something more comfortable, Arthur ordered him to fetch dinner from the kitchen. Merlin gave him his best scowl but slinked off to get their meals.

Gwen was in Arthur’s room when Merlin returned, and she hastened to help Merlin with the precariously held plates before the one perched on his elbow fell to the floor. He smiled gratefully at her before setting down Arthur’s food and taking his own seat across from the queen.

“Alright, now that Merlin’s back, what’s all this about, Arthur?” Gwen asked.

Seeing that they already had goblets of wine in front of them, Merlin reached forward to fill a cup of his own. No one had gone to the trouble of pouring _him_ wine, he noticed.

“I suppose I’d better start at the beginning.”

“That’s generally the best place to start,” Merlin said.

“On the last hunt, I had a dream,” Arthur continued, ignoring Merlin. “Well, it may have been a dream. I’m not entirely sure, but I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of someone calling my name.”

Merlin frowned as he set the jug of wine back on table. He was usually a very light sleeper, at least when it came to sleeping out in the open. How had Arthur heard this and not him? What if it had been an enemy?

“There was a man in the forest. A druid, or so he claimed.”

“You spoke to a druid?” Gwen interrupted.

Arthur nodded. “I did. After what happened with your brother, and the boy that possessed him, I made a promise that things would change. Otherwise I probably would have threatened this druid without a second thought. I did raise my sword, but only as a precaution.”

Merlin smiled into his cup, feeling proud that Arthur had remembered his promise.

“And what did this druid tell you?” Gwen asked.

“He told me about Emrys.”

Merlin choked on his wine. Arthur hadn’t just said that, had he? Merlin’s name? Not just his name, but his _name_?

Merlin tried to force his heart to a normal beat, and keep his expression a mixture of calm yet interested. But this was bad. This was _really_ bad. He already felt rotten for lying to Arthur about who and what he was, could barely say the words “I love you” without feeling a twist in his gut, but this...For Arthur to know and not know...It was torture.

“And, uh, who’s Emrys?” Merlin asked. It was odd saying his own name like that. He felt as though he’d just said a spell right in front of his two closest friends.

“A sorcerer,” Arthur said. He looked straight at Merlin when he spoke, and Merlin fought every urge telling him to look away. “The most powerful sorcerer in all of Albion apparently.”

“You talked to a druid about a sorcerer. In the forest. At night.”

“I told you, it could have been a dream. Though why my head would pluck out a name I’ve never heard before and give it such importance, I’ve no idea. It’s _something_.”

Merlin put down his goblet and picked up his fork, moving onto his food with feigned disinterest. “Alright. Go on.”

“He said Emrys has been protecting me, ever since I was still a prince. That he’s saved my life a thousand times over and done remarkable things for Camelot.”

Merlin wouldn’t say a thousand times; maybe more in the low hundreds. And it certainly didn’t feel like the things he’d done for Camelot were remarkable. Most of the time it made him feel disgusted with himself, actually.

Arthur turned to Gwen now, lowering his voice to nearly a whisper. “He said Emrys and I share a destiny. That together we’ll bring about an age of peace. That’s what I’ve always wanted, Guinevere. To unite the kingdoms of Albion and stop all the bloodshed.”

“I know, Arthur, but...dream or not, it does seem a bit strange,” Gwen said. “A mysterious sorcerer and destinies? How do you know you can trust this druid? What if he was lying or trying to manipulate you?”

“That was the first thing I thought of. But there’s been countless incidents that just don’t make sense otherwise. I’ve usually attributed it to luck; like a sudden tree branch falling on a bandit, or a gust of wind covering horse tracks. But one thing has always stuck with me, has _plagued_ me and driven me nearly mad not being able to understand it.”

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat, and he suddenly couldn’t swallow. “What’s that?”

Arthur turned back to Merlin. “Years ago, when I went to get that flower for you. You risked your life drinking poison for me and needed a cure, remember?”

“Yes.”

“There was a light that guided me out of the cave. It was obviously magic, but it hadn’t felt like bad magic. That certainly can’t be explained any other way. If that was Emrys helping me even then, this druid couldn’t have been lying.” Arthur stopped, taking a deep breath. “I know my father was wrong about many things. If the dangers of sorcery was one such instance, if there are good sorcerers out there, imagine all the wrong that’s been done. It’d be like the boy that possessed Elyan all over again, but increased by a thousand.”

Merlin tread carefully. “And you’ve decided to change your view of magic? Just like that?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, not just like that. I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it until I can’t think about it any longer. It’s been in the forefront of my mind every waking moment of the day, going over my life with the knowledge that Emrys has been a part of it. I owe this man my entire kingdom.”

Merlin chuckled. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“Why not? Camelot would be nothing without him. I’d be dead. You’d be dead.”

Merlin fought back another laugh. He had nothing to say, probably should have kept his mouth shut to begin with, so he went back to eating his meal.

“I’ve nearly come to a conclusion,” Arthur continued. “I want to believe that magic can be used for good, because imagine what it could do for the kingdom. But I do still have my doubts. Which is why I want to meet him.”

Merlin choked on his chicken.

“Why haven’t you?” Gwen asked.

“That was the second thing I asked the druid,” Arthur said. “He told me Emrys has kept his identity secret so he can keep protecting me. That he’s someone close to me. I asked who he was and the druid just...just looked at me funny and asked who I wanted it to be.” Arthur’s eyes glanced at Merlin and Merlin quickly looked away.

“Who did you say?” Gwen nudged.

“No one. Couldn’t think of anyone I’d want to be a secret sorcerer. Still, I can’t understand...” Arthur trailed off, rubbing the pad of his forefinger over the table thoughtfully.

“Can’t understand what?” Merlin pressed.

“Why wouldn’t he want to come forward and claim some sort of recognition?”

“Magic _is_ outlawed,” Gwen pointed out.

“The only thing he’d be claiming is the right to have his head chopped off,” Merlin added.

“I wouldn’t do that. I would just like to thank him and ask why he did it. To learn more about the nature of sorcery and if it’s all bad or not.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what was more surprising—Arthur wanting to thank him or Arthur wanting to _learn_ about sorcery. When had their last hunt been again? How long had Arthur been pondering this? He had to have given it a fair amount of thought if he was being so candid voicing his opinions now. For a whole life’s worth of beliefs to be undone just because he’d found out his neck was saved a few times was a bit hard for Merlin to come to terms with.

It seemed it was for Gwen as well. “Arthur. Are you sure? Your father—”

“Is not me,” Arthur declared firmly. “I’ve seen him burn people at the stake just for being _suspected_ of sorcery. You yourself were once kept in the dungeons because of something as small as a poultice, and what harm did that do anyone? My father was so often blinded by hatred that he left no room for argument. I’m not saying that there aren’t evil sorcerers, I’m simply saying that perhaps some things should be reconsidered.”

Merlin wanted to kiss him. Even with the tension strung along his insides from being nearly found out, Merlin was filled with joy at hearing Arthur finally say such words. He bit his cheeks to keep from smiling.

Arthur, however, knew him too well. He poked Merlin’s shoulder, leering at him with amusement in his eyes. “What are you grinning about, then?”

Merlin huffed out a laugh. “You’re a great king, Arthur. I always knew you’d be a better ruler than your father.”

Arthur’s lips spread in a grin as well, and he curled his fingers over Merlin’s hand on the table. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin’s breath came a little quicker, but he dared to speak what was on his mind anyways. “And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Maybe this Emrys doesn’t do it for recognition, but because he cares for you as well.”

“He might be disappointed to learn that I care for someone else.”

“Not like that. There are plenty of people who believed you’d be a good king, that you’d see the wrong your father did and would strive to change things. It doesn’t surprise me that the druids think you have a destiny to bring about peace. Wanting to see that hopeful future seems as good a reason as any to help you. Not for gold or recognition, but for the sake of the kingdom. For you.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed with thought as he nodded. “It makes sense. So many sorcerers have attacked Camelot wanting to bring magic back forcefully, my sister included. It’s almost relieving to know that one was intelligent enough to see that such methods wouldn’t work.”

Merlin almost laughed again. Arthur had no idea he’d just called him intelligent.

Then Merlin looked at Gwen, and all thoughts of laughing quickly disappeared. She was staring at him intently, as though she were trying to fit pieces of a puzzle together. Merlin didn’t know if he should play the fool and smile at her or just go back to his meal.

“Eat, Arthur, you haven’t touched your food once,” Merlin chided. “I didn’t go all the way to the kitchen for nothing.”

Arthur sighed and released Merlin’s hand to begin eating. “Still,” Arthur said, “I would like to meet him. If not to recognise him, at least for him to tell me what he can of magic. I also imagine he’d be helpful in defeating Morgana.”

“I don’t think he’d want to meet you.”

Both Merlin and Arthur froze, staring at Gwen with matching looks of incredulity.

“Why not?” Arthur asked.

“As I said before, magic is outlawed. You would be meeting with a traitor, committing treason—”

“I’m the king, I can’t commit treason against myself.”

“I simply think you ought to consider the position it might place him in. He has deceived numerous people, has worked in the shadows for years, and for you to suddenly single him out would bring him into the light. I don’t suggest you make any hasty decisions, but perhaps...perhaps you ought to think about changing the law before seeking him out.”

It was as if Merlin’s limbs had locked up. How could Gwen know? How could she so accurately empathise with him? It _would_ be overwhelming if all his deeds were suddenly brought to light—it was currently making him feel like one of Gaius’s specimens, and he wanted to remain hidden just a while longer for more than one reason. But Gwen couldn’t possibly know. He wasn’t that transparent, was he?

“You think I should lift the ban on magic before speaking to him?” Arthur asked, clarifying.

Gwen thinned her lips into a straight line and nodded.

“I wished to speak to him beforehand to help decide whether I should. How am I to make an informed decision without gathering all the facts first?”

“It was only a suggestion, Arthur. You asked me here for my thoughts and those are my thoughts. Whatever you do is up to you. Just keep in mind that Emrys may prove as elusive as ever.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed again, and he frowned. Merlin kept his eyes away from Gwen, but he could feel her calculating stare as though it was burning a hole in his forehead.

“What do you think, Merlin?”

Merlin nearly jumped when Arthur turned to him so suddenly. His heart raced as he thought of what he could possibly say to mask the truth.

 _I’ve wanted to tell you forever,_ he thought. _I want you to know me, but you’ll hate me. Because I’ve lied to you. I’ve lain with you, you’ve given me your trust, and I’ve betrayed it. The world could be magic again, but I’m still hiding. Because I’m scared and I don’t want to lose you._

“Oh, well, I don’t know,” Merlin said airily. “Magic wasn’t banned in the kingdom I grew up in, so I’ve never had a problem with sorcery. I wouldn’t mind if it became legal again. As far as Emrys goes, and wanting to meet him, well, you don’t need him to make an informed decision. There are plenty of magical texts still in the library. I’m fairly certain even Gaius has a few, for research purposes and all, you know.”

“You don’t think I should meet him?” Arthur asked, raising a brow.

“I think that if Gwen’s right and he doesn’t want to meet _you_ , if he wants to remain just some silent protector until you lift the ban, then that’s the way to do it. And if he still doesn’t come forward, then at least he’ll have the satisfaction of knowing he was able to help bring magic back.”

“But...Morgana—”

“Most likely wouldn’t want to fight after magic has returned. That has been her end goal after all, hasn’t it?”

“No, it hasn’t. She wants to rule for herself, wants all of Camelot under her command. It isn’t just about magic, but about her thinking the throne is rightfully hers. How am I to have this grand destiny with someone who won’t even show me his face?”

Gwen put a soft hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, please calm down.”

Arthur huffed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I’m just frustrated. The druid said he was close to me. He could be anyone. I only want to _talk_ to him. I owe him so much.”

Merlin felt a bit like he’d been stabbed in the heart. He tried to console himself by thinking that’s how Arthur would feel if he ever found out the truth.

“Alright, that’s enough for one night. You’re just going in circles at this point. Move on to something pleasant, why don’t you?” Merlin chirped, poking Arthur’s face. “No more frowns, huh?”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head, but he was laughing a little. “Merlin, you idiot.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

This time, Arthur was thinking of Merlin. The requests and entreaties weren’t quite so dull as an outbreak of illness, so he did have to shift some of his attention to the people before him, but his thoughts flew around constantly in his head.

He still wished very much to find Emrys, and he’d always been the type of man to act quickly instead of waiting around for something to come up, but Gwen did have a point. Emrys had remained hidden for years; he wouldn’t come out of hiding just because Arthur was now aware of his existence. If anything, under the current law, he would be even more alert. And it would still most likely be another month or two before Arthur decided to do anything about changing said law.

However, the topic of recognition had got Arthur thinking. Merlin’s reaction to the unknown sorcerer had seemed...strange. Almost as though he wished Arthur hadn’t brought it up at all and wouldn’t ever again. Arthur knew Merlin could be jealous, but this had seemed different.

And then Arthur had realised: he’d been talking so much of wanting to recognise Emrys for his efforts, that he’d completely forgot about how Merlin might feel.

While true Merlin had never done anything as spectacular as save his life, he’d been at Arthur’s side for years, providing counsel and guidance, friendship, and later, love. Arthur had always felt it a bit unfair that Gwen had the privilege of sitting beside him on a throne. Gwen was wonderful as a queen of course, but Merlin was his rock, his support, his everything. For him to stand off to the side as a simple servant, to be publicly ordered around, must have been a terrible burden he silently suffered daily. And then Arthur had had to go and talk of praising this sorcerer whom he didn’t even _know_.

That was at least something Arthur could do to busy himself at the moment. He could find a way to somehow recognise Merlin, because Merlin more than deserved it. But what kind of recognition did Merlin even want?

A more worthy title, perhaps? Merlin wasn’t a warrior, and didn’t seem inclined to ever want to be one, so Arthur couldn’t very well train him and knight him. He couldn’t give him a piece of land, because what would Merlin even do with it? And Merlin had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t wish to be royal consort lest it cause Gwen to be regarded differently (for which Lancelot would secretly loathe them for). What the hell could Merlin possibly want?

Today it was Gwen who subtly cleared her throat when Arthur’s thoughts took him too far away. He made himself focus again. But he _would_ think of something.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur suddenly stilled the motion of his hips, letting Merlin’s cock simply stay sheathed in place as he sat astride him.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked.

Merlin’s brow furrowed, but they were already so pushed together that it hardly made a difference in the number of lines across his forehead. “What, why?”

“Your face. It’s almost like you’re in pain.”

Merlin smoothed his features, but it seemed like an effort. “Maybe I’m just trying hard not to come.”

“That’s not your trying-not-to-come face. You bite your lip when you do that.”

“Arthur, I’m _fine_. Keep going, alright?”

Merlin jerked up a little, startling a gasp out of Arthur. Arthur knew there was _something_ wrong, but he wouldn’t ruin the moment by asking again. He’d get it out of him later. For now he went back to his earlier rhythm, lifting his hips and snapping them downward, ending with a slight roll that had Merlin’s cock pressing up against his prostate.

His own cock was sliding against Merlin’s stomach, leaving a glistening trail of precome that he rubbed into Merlin’s skin with his thumb. Merlin moaned and his hands slid up Arthur’s thighs to squeeze his arse, spreading the cheeks apart as he kept plunging in.

Arthur let his head fall back with a shaky sigh. He never said it aloud, but he loved when Merlin did that to him. He loved when Merlin’s hands touched _any_ part of his body, but it lit a fire in his groin when Merlin grabbed his arse. Merlin knew, obviously, because he knew everything, so it was usually a signal that Merlin himself was about to come. It pushed Arthur a little closer to the edge where Merlin needed him to be.

So Arthur wrapped a hand around his cock and started stroking. Merlin kept kneading his arse, but now he thrust his hips up frantically, pushing as deep as he could into Arthur, hard enough to make Arthur’s blood rush and his breath come quickly.

Merlin spilled first, grunting once and then breathing heavily through plump, parted lips. The sight was beautiful because Merlin was always beautiful—not that Arthur would ever admit it—but it didn’t give Arthur the needed push. That only happened when Merlin moved one of his hands and curled it around Arthur’s, helping stroke Arthur to completion. Arthur erupted over their combined fingers with a low moan, the tense heat between his legs finally too much.

He let Merlin slide out of him and only barely held himself up as he caught his breath. Merlin managed to reach a little ways down the bed and grab one of their tunics to wipe off with, and when he applied the coarse fabric to the cleft of Arthur’s arse, Arthur figured it was probably Merlin’s. None of his own royal clothing was that rough.

When Arthur felt he’d got all the air back in his lungs, he pulled his leg from over Merlin and let his body fall to the bed. He was still half sprawled across Merlin, his head on Merlin’s shoulder, but he knew Merlin didn’t mind. Merlin tossed his dirty tunic onto the floor and wrestled with the duvet until Arthur moved enough for him to pull it over them.

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to dress you for bed?” Merlin said.

Arthur grunted.

“Good, because I don’t want to.”

Arthur snorted in amusement. He ran his hand over Merlin’s chest once before stopping in the centre and placing his palm flat, feeling Merlin’s heartbeat. It was still a bit fast, but slowing.

Merlin had become a lot stronger since he’d come to Camelot, no longer the bony boy that had insulted the prince in the marketplace. Arthur had noticed it before, Merlin’s thicker arms and broader shoulders, his lower abdomen more defined with muscle. He’d noticed the rough skin and the scars, some of which he knew nothing about—Merlin even had a scar on the back of his neck, though how he’d managed to get such an oddly shaped wound in such a strange place was a complete mystery—but Arthur had never really registered it. Sometimes Arthur looked at Merlin and couldn’t believe how much he’d changed.

He tried to think again about what Merlin could want. There had to be something Arthur could give him. But when Arthur raised his gaze to Merlin’s face and saw his eyes closed peacefully, Merlin seemed perfectly content. He seemed fine with the current situation.

Maybe he was a bit like Emrys that way. Merlin had said that Emrys probably just wanted to see Arthur do his best for Albion. Maybe Merlin knew that feeling, because it was similar to what he felt for Arthur. Maybe Merlin really just wanted Arthur’s love and that was enough.

Arthur decided he’d try to put that particular matter out of his head. He’d most likely misinterpreted Merlin’s reaction the previous day. If Merlin had been jealous, or if he’d wanted anything, he wouldn’t hesitate to let Arthur know. He was always straightforward like that.

So Arthur went back to the other thing that was troubling him.

“What do you think about Emrys, Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes snapped open and Arthur felt his heartbeat pick up beneath his palm. “Seriously? You’re bringing _that_ up again, after we’ve just had sex?”

“It’s been bothering me,” Arthur said truthfully. “If you found out you had a destiny with someone, wouldn’t you want to know them? Maybe not be friends with them or talk to them on a daily basis, but at least know what they look like?”

Merlin sighed and glared at the canopy above the bed. “I dunno. Never really thought about it.”

“Really? Merlin, you’ve given me advice countless times over the years and now you’re just saying ‘Oh, I dunno?’”

Merlin made a pinched face at him. “I thought we went over this yesterday. Gwen said—”

“I’m not asking what Gwen said. I know what she said. I’m asking what _you_ think.”

“I told you what I thought you should do—”

“Yes, yes, the research and the stupid magical texts in the library. I’ll get to that eventually, and no doubt it will be just as boring as every other thing I’ve had to look up in that dusty torture chamber Geoffrey calls a place of knowledge. But what do you think of Emrys? I’m just...I’m trying to understand his reasoning and his motives. If he doesn’t want recognition or a reward, I can at least try to get to know him indirectly.”

Beneath Arthur’s palm, Merlin’s heart was beating quickly, a thudding rhythm against Merlin’s ribcage. Arthur propped himself up on his elbow and looked at Merlin more closely.

Arthur had lied to Gwen about what he told the druid. There _had_ been someone Arthur wanted Emrys to be, and that someone was Merlin. It would have been perfect if Arthur could share a destiny with the man he loved. But there was no possible way Merlin had magic, not a chance in the world that he was the most powerful sorcerer in Albion. Merlin was the most clumsy, forgetful, dolt of a manservant on his best days, even if he was Arthur’s most trusted advisor. And besides that, he would have said something. If not back in the days when they were friends, then certainly after they’d become lovers. Apparently it was simply too much to ask of the universe to have Merlin be his partner in destiny as well as in everything else.

Still, Arthur had faced enough opponents and studied enough of human behaviour to know that the increased beating of Merlin’s heart meant _something_.

“I...I just think you don’t really know what you’re asking of Emrys,” Merlin said, averting his gaze, shifting back to the canopy. “A lifetime of secrecy and working in the shadows is more preferable to having everything exposed. You know I agree with Gwen on that point. And if...if Emrys has been able to succeed on more than one occasion _because_ people didn’t know who he was, it may make things difficult in future.”

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. He hadn’t thought of that. He supposed it did make things easier in a way. Emrys was a bit like an assassin, wasn’t he? Lurking in the depths to do Arthur’s dirty work and deal with the threats that Arthur knew nothing about.

“Besides,” Merlin continued, “what if he’s not ready to face the fact that he’s been lying for so long?”

“I understand wanting to work in secret, but surely Emrys wouldn’t be so foolish as to believe I wouldn’t forgive him for lying in order to keep me safe,” Arthur said.

“That’s a lot of lying to forgive.”

“Yes, for the benefit of Camelot. For Albion.”

“I don’t know, Arthur. Let’s just...forget it.”

Merlin made to roll over, but Arthur stopped him. Merlin narrowed his eyes, looking at Arthur warily.

“Merlin. Do you...do you know who he is?”

That was it. Arthur had hit the nail on the head. He had to have if Merlin’s frantic heartbeat was anything to go by. _That’s_ why Merlin had reacted strangely, why he kept wanting to drop the issue. That’s why he was able to sound like he knew exactly what Emrys was feeling—because Merlin knew who he was.

Merlin had been friends with a sorcerer once before, after all. That boy Will from his village had had magic. Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if Merlin had befriended and protected another one. He could even understand why Merlin would keep it a secret from him; Merlin was kind-hearted like that, and it wasn’t his secret to tell.

“ _Merlin_.”

“I...I might have an idea. I don’t know for certain, but...obviously there’s always been magic in Camelot no matter how hard your father tried to get rid of it.”

“You’re not going to tell me who he is, are you?”

Merlin chewed his lip, looking torn. Arthur wanted to make Merlin tell him, but he knew what it was like having to be loyal to two people at once.

“He wants to remain hidden, Arthur. I’ve respected his decision for as long as I’ve known him, and I think you should, too. As long as he continues keeping you safe and doing good things for Camelot, I’m fine with how he chooses to do it.”

Arthur sighed and dropped his head back to Merlin’s shoulder. “I suppose the only thing I can do is work to unban magic and hope he comes forward in his own time.”

“Suppose so.”

“I do wonder what he looks like, though.” Arthur waited for Merlin to say something, but when Merlin didn’t, he pinched his nipple. Merlin yelped. “ _Mer_ lin.”

“What?”

“What does he look like? Just in general. Is he young or old?”

Merlin rubbed at his nipple. “Young, I guess,” he muttered. “Not too far in age from you.”

“What colour is his hair?”

“It’s...brown.”

“And his eyes?”

“Gold.”

Arthur pinched his nipple again. “Haven’t I said no one likes a clever clogs?”

Merlin huffed, flicking Arthur’s nose. “Quit talking about him and go to sleep. I’m tired.”

Arthur looked up at him. “You’re not _actually_ jealous, are you? Considering I’m naked in bed with you and not him.”

“Oh gods, Arthur, just shut up already,” Merlin groaned and rolled over, displacing Arthur’s head from his shoulder.

Arthur chuckled and wrapped an arm around him, shuffling closer. “If it makes you feel better, my arse is still aching from your cock,” he whispered in Merlin’s ear. “I can still feel some of your seed inside me.”

Merlin sighed and scooted back into Arthur’s embrace. “I guess that makes me feel a little better.”

“Thought it might.”

“But I’m serious. Stop dwelling on him all the time.”

How was Arthur meant to do that? Merlin didn’t know what it was like to have a destiny. His official station was still just a servant, no matter how invaluable he was to Arthur. He knew nothing of expectations and duty.

“I’ll try,” Arthur said.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was already at Gaius’s door when he realised the man was halfway across Camelot treating a village illness. He groaned and knocked his head against the wood repeatedly, wishing his mentor hadn’t been inconveniently sent away, or at least that there was someone he could dump his woes on.

It was all even worse than it had been before. Before, he had had the option of revealing himself in his own time. Now he didn’t even have that. Arthur just had to go and ask if Merlin knew Emrys, had to do that stupid thing where he looked in Merlin’s eyes and demanded the truth. And Merlin had lied, _again_. He’d said Emrys was a friend of his, a fucking mate! How was he ever going to tell Arthur the truth now?

“Merlin?”

Merlin stopped banging his head and looked up at the sound of his name. It was Gwaine.

“Do I even want to ask what you’re doing?” Gwaine asked with an amused grin.

Merlin sighed, turning around to slump against the door. “Just not having the best of mornings.”

Gwaine put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “I know the feeling. I’ve got a pounding in my head as well.”

Merlin huffed a laugh. “Gwaine, you drunk. Alright, give me a moment to get the door open.” Merlin pulled out his key to the workroom and unlocked it, leading Gwaine inside.

He laughed again when Gwaine went straight to the shelf with the correct phial. “Should I even be surprised you know where he keeps it?” Merlin asked.

“Not in the slightest.” Gwaine uncorked the top and drained it in one go, his face scrunching briefly from the taste. “Ugh, never gets any better. But now my problem’s been sorted, what’s yours?”

Merlin plopped down at the table, folding his arms over it. “I’ve trapped myself in a corner and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Gwaine swung a leg over the bench, sitting astride it to face Merlin. “Wanna talk about it?”

Merlin traced a whorling pattern in the wood with his fingernail. “Yes, but...no.” _Not with you._

Gwaine quirked a brow.

“It’s complicated. I sort of...lied about certain things to certain people. Gaius knew about it and I thought he could help, but he’s not here.”

Gwaine nodded. “Well, we’ve all got secrets. You know you can trust me, but I get it—”

“No, Gwaine, it’s not that I don’t—”

Gwaine held up a hand. “I get it. Whatever it is, must be pretty serious. Maybe there’s a fair maiden out there who says you’ve got a son or something and you don’t want Arthur to find out.”

Merlin snorted. “That’s something _you_ would do, more like.”

Gwaine grinned. “Like I was saying. We’ve all got secrets, and sometimes the burden starts to get a little overwhelming. You know what I do when that happens?”

“The same thing you always do?”

“Precisely. What do you say, come to the tavern with me?”

Merlin groaned. “Gwaine, it’s bad enough Arthur thinks I spend all my free time there.”

“So he won’t mind then! Come on, most of the others will be there. I’ve even managed to get Lancelot to agree to—”

“Lancelot?”

Merlin suddenly felt like an idiot. Why had he not thought of him before? Lancelot knew about him. Lancelot could help.

“Yeah. After a bit of arm twisting I’ve finally succeeded in getting him to agree.”

“You do know he’s been to the tavern before, don’t you? Just because he’s more of a knight than you doesn’t mean he’s boring.”

“Yes, but he only goes after victories or if it’s one of our birthdays. He’s always got to have a reason. Not this time!”

“Alright. I suppose if Lancelot’s going then I’ll go as well,” Merlin said.

Gwaine slapped Merlin on the back, forcing a huff of air out of his lungs. “Excellent! I’ll see you there.” He got up from the bench, leaving the empty phial on the table, and strode to the door. “Don’t worry, Merlin,” he said over his shoulder as he left. “You might still be in a corner, but at least it’ll seem a little bigger.”

Merlin sighed and put his chin on top of his arms. Maybe Gwaine was right and he needed to try to forget about it for a while. But he still felt rotten.

In the meantime, there was another matter he had to attend to.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin knew of only one druid settlement that he could ride to and from within the course of a day. It was in the complete opposite direction of his and Arthur’s last hunt, so it was unlikely he’d find the exact druid he was looking for, but he had to start somewhere. If he was lucky, someone in the camp would know which druid was likely to give away his secret.

Merlin didn’t take Hengroen, his usual horse which Arthur had gifted him, choosing instead to ride one of the mares from the far end of the stable. And he wore a black cloak, raising the hood up to cover his face so not a single guard could say they saw the king’s manservant leave the city. As soon as he cleared the walls, he spurred the horse on as fast as she would go.

Merlin made good time. Even though this horse didn’t know him like Hengroen did, she let him push her to the limit, only slowing when she needed a breath. Merlin stroked her mane soothingly, and even stopped by a creek to give her some water when the sun was highest in the sky. Then it was back to riding.

Shortly after, Merlin neared the ridge overlooking the settlement, pillars of smoke twisting up into the sky. He paused there, wondering if anyone below would look up and spot him, if they’d be able to discern who he was from this distance. He half expected to hear one of their voices in his head already.

He heard nothing, but there were two men suddenly on either side of him, pointing long blades at his throat. His horse shuffled anxiously, sensing the danger.

Merlin lowered his hood and the two men dropped their weapons, bowing their heads in respect.

“Emrys.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin didn’t want to be impolite, so he accepted the food they gave him even though he felt he didn’t have the time. He sat at their fire, offering a smile to any curious children, and shoved spoonfuls of stew into his mouth.

“May I ask the reason for such an unexpected visit, Emrys?” asked their leader, Doria, when Merlin set his empty bowl aside.

Merlin cleared his throat. “The king,” he began. “Someone spoke to him about me. A druid.”

Doria kept her eyes on Merlin, but there were several anxious glances cast around. Merlin felt the ripple of tension and unease in the air. _Emrys is unhappy,_ they thought. _Emrys is angry._

“I simply wish to know who,” Merlin continued, “and why. Why, when I have worked so hard to keep my existence secret, would someone do such a thing?”

Doria’s mouth set into a firm line as she lowered her gaze to the burning embers of the fire. She folded her hands together, contemplating.

“All of us believe in the future you will help Arthur create; in the kingdom you will aid him in building. But there are a certain few that believe the time has already come. They believe destiny is not being achieved quickly enough, that you are taking too long in fulfilling the promised future. They are impatient.”

Merlin clenched his fists. He sometimes grew impatient too, but that didn’t give anyone the right to try to speed things along. He was trying his best.

“Did they not think what would happen if Arthur reacted poorly?” Merlin asked. “If he had discovered a sorcerer was at his side for so long and had decided to search him out to execute him instead of praise him? What if Arthur began doubting himself, thinking he couldn’t run a kingdom without depending on someone working in the shadows to help him? Arthur could have killed this druid on sight. Did he not think of that?”

“ _Did_ Arthur react poorly?” she asked, ignoring his other statements.

Merlin looked away. “No. But the druid still acted carelessly. Arthur is searching for a man that he doesn’t know is me. If he finds out, there won’t _be_ a destiny, because he’ll hate me. I’ve been perfectly capable of revealing who I am this whole time, and now that someone’s almost done it for me, that’s ruined. Why should I forgive that?”

There were a few gasps from the others, and Merlin glanced at their expressions: some shocked, some worried, others blank.

“I don’t mean to punish anyone,” Merlin said quickly. “I would never...I’m simply upset. This man told a secret that was not his to tell. Surely, you can understand how I feel about that.”

Merlin returned his eyes to Doria, hoping he had managed to explain himself. He didn’t want to get into the details of him loving Arthur, of Arthur loving him. But not knowing how deep their bond ran must have been making it hard for the druids to understand why Merlin wished to stay hidden. They probably thought that Arthur was merely a close friend, that the king would be able to get over a few years’ worth of lies without so much as blinking.

“I agree the man was selfish,” Doria said evenly. “He acted on behalf of the small group of people who believe it is their duty to forcefully bring about the time of Albion. He put you in an unfortunate position.”

Merlin nodded. At least someone understood.

“But has Arthur not seen all the good you’ve done? You said he did not react poorly. Has he realised that magic can be used for more than evil and that it does not corrupt?”

“Well...Yes. He’s said he’s going to lift the ban on magic.”

Another collective gasp ran through their audience, smiles and whispers thrown back over shoulders to let others know. Merlin imagined even people on the other side of the settlement knew, having been told telepathically.

“I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” Merlin added hurriedly. “It could still be a few months yet, and he may very well change his mind if Camelot is suddenly threatened again. But for now he does seem to be set on it. He’s so excited by the idea of destiny, he’s like a child,” Merlin finished, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

Arthur hardly knew anything of destiny. He only knew duty, obligations, and expectations. Merlin had had to endure the weight of _destiny_ on his shoulders since his first day in Camelot. Arthur would learn soon enough, though.

“That is wonderful news, Emrys,” Doria said. “And still you are upset?”

Merlin dropped his gaze, looking away uncomfortably. “I agree it is good news. I was as pleased as you when I heard how his views had changed. Arthur has come so far, not just in regards to magic, but as a man.”

Merlin glanced up and saw that she was waiting for the “but” sure to follow. He suddenly felt that coming here was a mistake.

“I simply worry that he will hate me when he learns who I am. That he’ll resent having to share a destiny with me. I’m not sure how we’ll be able to create peace across Albion when we can’t even keep peace between ourselves.”

Merlin was afraid to take his eyes from the ground. He could feel their eyes staring at him, though with what emotion he dare not guess. Were they disappointed with him now? They had expected the mighty Emrys to be so powerful and strong, and yet here he was worrying about things such as whether Arthur might still like him or not. It probably seemed petty to them.

 _Emrys isn’t what we believed him to be_ , they probably thought. _Emrys is just a man. Emrys has feelings. Emrys is weak._

Merlin suddenly got to his feet. He knew for certain now that he had been wrong to come here. Finding the druid responsible would change nothing. At least now he knew the reason behind the man’s actions, but that only made the weight on his shoulders seem heavier. Knowing that people were impatient with him had turned an hourglass in his mind, and it felt as though there were not enough grains of sand left.

“I should return to Camelot,” Merlin said, meeting Doria’s eyes but no one else’s. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

As he turned to go, her hand darted out and gripped the sleeve of his cloak. “A half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole,” she said. “Your futures are as interwoven as the roots of the oldest tree, your bond as deep as the largest ocean. The king will forgive, as his fate dictates.”

Merlin was a little stunned. He’d heard Kilgharrah say nearly the same, but had somewhat dismissed it as more of the dragon’s ramblings about prophecy. The fact that Doria echoed the words now had to mean something.

Merlin finally raised his eyes to the other druids, albeit a bit warily. It wasn’t scorn or disappointment he saw in their faces, but sympathy and compassion. Even the most hulking of men seemed to have his brows drawn together in quiet understanding.

 _Thank you_ , he thought to them, sending the message to each face around the fire. _I will do my best. You will see magic returned to Albion, I promise you._

Merlin turned to go again, feeling the weight of their faith in him as heavily as ever. The burden of destiny only seemed to have increased with his promise, and he felt he had achieved nothing with this visit. But as always, as he must, Merlin squared his shoulders and walked firmly, lifting his hood over his head once more.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin dropped his cloak off in his old room in the physician’s chamber, then dragged himself straight to the tavern. He didn’t have to search hard for Gwaine when he got there.

“Oi, Merlin, you’re late!”

The smile on Merlin’s face was only half forced. His bones ached from being on a horse all day, he was deeply worried that his absence had not gone unnoticed by Arthur, and he was much too fatigued for jokes and drink, but he did long for some sort of levity. Not that there’d be much of that either, considering he needed to speak with Lancelot.

“Give him a break, Gwaine, you know Arthur has him doing the work of three men,” Leon said, slapping Merlin on the back.

Gwaine waggled his eyebrows. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Merlin gave him a rough shove, but was shaking his head and chuckling. “I didn’t come here for your innuendos, Gwaine. Are you gonna get me a drink or not?”

Gwaine threw an arm over Merlin’s shoulder, the smell of mead nearly overwhelming when he crowded in close. “That’s the spirit,” he said, grinning as he shoved his own cup into Merlin’s chest. “Drink up, mate. May your corner expand with every sip.”

Merlin looked down at the tankard in his hand. The dark amber liquid inside was still mostly near the top. He raised the cup to his lips, drinking long and deep, and felt the warm effects almost instantly after he swallowed. Gwaine and a few others cheered.

Merlin didn’t drink too much as the night went on. Not because he was a lightweight—which he _so_ wasn’t, despite what everyone else said—but because he needed to keep a somewhat clear head when talking to Lancelot. And where was that knight anyway? Merlin had already drank his whole tankard and started a second, and he still hadn’t seen him.

Merlin left his seat at the table to have a look around. He finally found Lancelot by where Percival and another man were playing a game of dice. Lancelot was leaning against the wall, watching the game with what appeared to be only half interest.

Merlin called across the noisy tavern, waving as he tried to get Lancelot’s attention. “Lance!”

Lance looked up at the sound of his name, his eyes widening a bit when he saw Merlin. Merlin waved him over, ducking into a dim corner where it was a little more quiet.

“Merlin, I’ve been meaning to speak to you,” Lance said.

Merlin furrowed his brow. “I’ve been meaning to speak to _you_.”

Lance nodded. “No doubt about the same thing. Guinevere said Arthur was told about a sorcerer named Emrys. That this Emrys and Arthur share a destiny. Sounds awfully familiar.”

Merlin sighed. “I know. It was a druid that took matters into his own hands and came to Arthur in the forest at night.”

“I don’t like lying to Guinevere, Merlin.”

“I know you don’t—”

“What are you going to do?”

Merlin wrung his hands. “I was kind of hoping you might have an idea. Gaius is usually the one I’d go to, but he’s away in that village...And the druids seem to think Arthur will forgive me if I tell him the whole truth. I just wanted to speak to you first. Do you think I should tell him?”

“I’ve always thought you should tell him. You know that, Merlin.”

Merlin lowered his eyes. “Yes, I know.” But he’d been kind of hoping Lancelot would have changed his mind.

“The longer you wait to tell him, the longer it’ll take him to forgive.”

Merlin didn’t want to believe that. It’d been almost ten years since he arrived in Camelot. Ten years of lies and hurt and staying hidden.

“Do you really think so?” Merlin asked. “If it were Gwen, and she hid something like this from you for so long, would you be angry and hold a grudge? Or do you think your love for her would make it easier to accept?”

Lance shook his head solemnly. “I am not Arthur. I don’t mean to imply that the love between you two is any less deep than what I have for Guinevere, but he is a different man, and handles things in different ways. I would be hurt, yes, but Arthur channels his hurt into anger. You know he always has.”

Merlin was quite aware of that. He had seen it on numerous occasions with his own eyes. There were times when Arthur did allow himself to sulk, but most times he clenched his jaw and went straight from despair to rage.

This was going to be the latter. There was no way to avoid Arthur’s wrath, not this time. And now that Arthur knew about Emrys, had spoken to Merlin personally about it, that wrath was going to increase twofold. It was going to break both of their hearts.

Despite the reassurances of the druids, Merlin wasn’t sure he could make himself do it.

“Better sooner than later, Merlin,” Lancelot said.

“Maybe I should wait until after the ban’s been lifted.”

“Merlin.”

“That’s what Arthur expects Emrys to do anyway.”

“And am I meant to keep my knowledge a secret from Guinevere for that much longer?”

Merlin frowned. He’d never heard Lance sound like that. Never so...bitter. It hurt him to hear his friend take such an uncharacteristic tone.

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I didn’t mean...I understand your hesitance and I’m sure Guinevere will as well when the time comes to tell her. It’s only the time in between that I don’t like. Things were different before, when the matter was far from everyone’s minds.”

Merlin nodded. “I know, Lance. I’m sorry for making you do this. I can’t thank you enough for being such a loyal friend.”

Lancelot put an arm over Merlin’s shoulders, smiling. “You changed my life, Merlin. You gave me a chance to make something of myself in Camelot, and now I am a knight, able to call the most beautiful woman in the world my own.”

Merlin couldn’t help but grin. “You did save my life first, you know.”

Lancelot waved it off. “I’ve always been glad to keep your secret, Merlin, because I’m indebted to you. I’ll respect your wishes as long as you need me to, but I ask that I don’t have to for much longer.”

“Of course, Lancelot. As soon as magic is legal again, I’ll tell Arthur and Gwen everything. I promise.”

It felt like with two little words, the air had been sucked out of the room. Another promise. Another person not to let down. Merlin was burying himself alive.

Lancelot’s smile widened. “Excellent. Now, shall we get properly drunk?”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur wasn’t too angry—not _really_ —and he certainly wasn’t worried, but _where the hell was Merlin_? Arthur had asked around, and nobody except Gwaine had seen him the entire day. Now, when he was meant to be lying next to Arthur in bed, he wasn’t here either.

Alright, maybe Arthur was a little worried. And maybe a lot angry.

By the ninth time Arthur had rolled onto his left side and groaned in exasperation, there was finally a loud knock on the door. If Merlin had been there, he would’ve got up to get it, but of course it was probably Merlin who needed entry now. Arthur sighed and threw his legs over the side of the bed to stand.

When he opened the door, he was only somewhat surprised to see his useless manservant-lover hanging off of Leon in a drunken heap. Honestly, Arthur should have figured he’d be in the tavern.

“Found him sleeping on the castle steps, sire,” Leon said as he entered and dropped Merlin on the bed. Merlin groaned, but remained otherwise silent and motionless. “It seems even Gwaine could only get him that far.”

Arthur sighed again and walked around the bed to prod Merlin’s sleeping head. Merlin let out a small grunt of annoyance but stayed asleep.

“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur said, turning to the knight. He dismissed him with a nod, and Leon exited, closing the door softly behind him.

Arthur walked back to the foot of the bed and knelt down by Merlin’s feet where they hung off the edge, then undid the buckles of Merlin’s boots before tugging them off. He set them down on the floor, then stood up and began the process of removing Merlin’s clothes.

“Honestly, Merlin, there’s useless and then there’s _useless_. A whole day in the tavern? What am I going to do with you?”

Arthur knew that probably wasn’t the case, though. There was dirt and grass on Merlin’s boots, so he’d probably been out gathering herbs or something. And as the physician’s assistant, Merlin had most likely been doing things which Gaius would have otherwise done had he been here, treating the sick and wounded. Arthur had seen Merlin work himself to the point of collapsing before, and Merlin had probably thought himself worthy of a few drinks after a hard day. Arthur supposed he could be lenient this once.

And it wasn’t terrible having to take care of Merlin. Arthur did sometimes wonder what it would be like if they spent an evening with the roles reversed, though at this point Merlin already helped Arthur with so many of his kingly duties that it was occasionally hard to distinguish who actually ran the kingdom. It was as if there _were_ no roles between them, at least in private, because everything weaved together into one efficient entity. Still, there were moments when Merlin showed a rare amount of respect, a lowering of his eyes or slipping up and calling Arthur “sire” when he no longer had to.

Merlin curled in on himself and shivered once his naked skin was exposed to the air. His brows pushed together and he pouted in his sleep. Arthur crawled back on the bed and pulled Merlin up—Gods, he was much heavier than he looked—and manoeuvred Merlin’s limbs until they were both under the duvet. Merlin unconsciously slid back toward Arthur for warmth and sighed when he found a comfortable spot, his pouting features smoothing back into peacefulness.

Arthur loved watching Merlin sleep, and not just because he was what Merlin called “emotionally repressed.” It had taken months for Arthur to even say he loved Merlin aloud, so of course he preferred looking at Merlin when Merlin wasn’t able to watch him do it. And he wasn’t the only one—Arthur had woken to Merlin staring at him more than once.

But Merlin just looked so innocent when he was sleeping. He often appeared like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though he carried on with a bright smile. It was evident in the slump of his spine, the dragging of his feet, the tilt of his mouth, whenever he thought Arthur wasn’t looking. He had ridden into danger with Arthur on countless occasions, and had even carried Arthur out of it a few—not that Arthur would admit it—and he had been the most amazing servant Arthur ever had, even if he sometimes disappeared for whole days at a time. So watching Merlin sleep, seeing the daily worries fade from Merlin’s countenance and the forced smiles give way to peaceful ignorance, was a treasure to behold.

Arthur wrapped his arm more firmly around Merlin, holding him tight, tight like he was precious, because he was.

“I love you, Merlin.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

“Merrrrrlin.”

Merlin knew exactly whose voice was in his ear, and he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face as well as a sword-calloused hand sliding over his hip, but that didn’t mean he wanted to get up any time soon. He grunted in protest and buried his face deeper into the soft pillow.

Arthur was persistent though, and was speaking in Merlin’s ear in that breathy, deep voice he used whenever he wanted Merlin to do something.

“It’s time to wake up, Merlin,” he coaxed.

Merlin sighed and blinked his eyes slowly open. The light from the window was blinding, and not at all good for his pounding headache, so he rolled over, coming face to face with Arthur in the process.

It took Merlin’s breath away seeing Arthur lying there, smiling at him in the morning sunlight. He was wearing black trousers with his blue shirt, the one that brought out his eyes and that Merlin loved most. Sometimes Merlin thought his life was a dream, and that he wasn’t really this lucky. Such happiness came with a price.

Then the weight of “destiny” came crashing down.

Arthur leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Merlin’s lips. Merlin pulled away after a few seconds.

“ _Ar_ thur, my mouth tastes like something died in it,” he groaned, sitting up.

Arthur chuckled. “There’s something that tastes much worse over on the table by your breakfast. Lancelot brought it by earlier.”

Merlin slid from under the duvet and padded across the chamber to the table. “I don’t remember being naked when I got here,” he said as he unstopped the phial.

“I’m surprised you remember getting here at all,” Arthur quipped.

“Well, I don’t, but that’s beside the point.” Merlin brought the phial to his lips and downed the bitter liquid in one go.

“Leon said he found you sleeping on the castle steps. He brought you back and I undressed you.”

“But didn’t dress me.”

“I _am_ the king, Merlin. I shouldn’t have had to do your job at all.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, not that Arthur could see, and went to the wardrobe to pull out some clothes.

“Gaius returned this morning,” Arthur said as Merlin stepped into a pair of trousers. Merlin heard him get up from the bed and sit at the table.

“Oh? That’s good.” Merlin made a mental note to talk to him as soon as he could get away.

“I planned to speak with him about what we discussed,” Arthur continued. “After he reports on the status of the village, of course.”

“When?”

“After breakfast. I want you to be there as well. Considering you know Emrys, you can’t be completely ignorant in the matters of magic.”

Merlin turned away from the wardrobe, walking to the table as he tied his neckerchief. How was he going to warn Gaius of Arthur’s acquired knowledge before the meeting?

“Yes, as I said, I did grow up where it wasn’t banned, so I know a few small things. And I’ve had to do research with Gaius on some occasions when it seemed like we were up against something unnatural.” Merlin sat down across from Arthur, picking up his goblet to wash down the taste of the medicine. “But you’re sure you want to do this? You’re not just doing it to meet Emrys, but because you really believe it’s the right thing to do?”

Arthur held Merlin’s gaze steadily. “I’m sure, Merlin. I wouldn’t make such a decision lightly. It will undo my father’s life work, and it will have lasting effects on the kingdom. I’ve thought about the executions of innocents I’ve had to watch, the raids on druid camps I’ve had to lead, and the healing techniques that could have saved lives had they been legal. I’m certain.”

Merlin smiled and nodded before bringing his goblet to his lips. “Good.”

It _was_ good. It was great. Now Merlin just needed a reason to get away to tell Gaius of the development.

“So where were you yesterday?” Arthur asked, biting into a piece of sausage. “I didn’t see you even once.”

Merlin forced himself to swallow his drink and put his cup down calmly. He’d thought about what he was going to say to this, but now that the time was here, it was killing him to have to get the words out.

“I went to visit Emrys.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up, and Merlin worried for a moment that Arthur would choke. “You did?”

“I figured he would want to know right away about your decision to change the law, as well as your eagerness to meet him.”

“What did he say?”

“He...he was pleased. He’d been expecting a much more negative reaction upon your discovering he’d been protecting you. He’s grateful you aren’t sending the guards after him.”

Arthur leaned forward. “And?”

Merlin took a deep breath. “And when I told him you wanted to meet, he said he’d like to wait until after the ban is lifted. As Gwen and I expected.”

The smile that lit Arthur’s face was almost too painful for Merlin to bear. He knew that Arthur wouldn’t be smiling when the time finally came for him to reveal himself. There would be anguish in those eyes, maybe even tears. There would be yelling on Arthur’s part, begging on Merlin’s, and it was going to be the hardest thing Merlin ever had to do.

“That’s great,” Arthur said, popping the rest of his sausage in his mouth. “All the more reason to address the matter quickly.”

Merlin nodded and ransacked his mind once more for a way to stall Arthur’s departure. There had to be something to keep Arthur in his room just a few moments longer while Merlin spoke with Gaius.

“But not in that tunic,” Merlin said suddenly.

Arthur quirked a brow and glanced down at his blue shirt.

“Not in that tunic,” Merlin repeated. “Red is for when you have royal duties, white is for when I want to show you off, and blue is just for me when we go out on a hunt, because you look best in blue. So you’ll have to change first. Wear white since you have nothing important to do today.”

Arthur laughed. “ _That_ ’s how you go about dressing me? You haven’t changed your own dreadful clothing in almost ten years, but you have an entire system for me?”

“Yes.” The sad thing was that it was actually the truth.

Arthur shook his head, chuckling. “I have said before that you’re a girl, haven’t I, Merlin? But alright, I’ll change.”

Minutes later, as Merlin finished stacking the dishes to make it easier for one of the servants to take away, he looked over his shoulder just in time to see Arthur pull his blue tunic off. Merlin stopped what he was doing and quickly picked up his boots from the foot of the bed, shoving his feet inside.

“I’ll see you when you come down then, alright?” Merlin said, making for the door.

“Merlin.”

Merlin halted in his tracks and pivoted around to face Arthur. Arthur was still shirtless and had a single eyebrow raised.

“Do you want me to clear the table?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shook his head and beckoned Merlin over. Merlin crossed the room warily.

“I’m not the only one changing,” Arthur said, reaching up to undo Merlin’s neckerchief with a grin.

“You’re not?”

“I’ll only put on my white tunic, if _you_ put on your purple one.” Merlin felt his heart sink as his hopes to warn Gaius in time were crushed at Arthur’s words. “I had it made for you for a reason, you know, and you don’t wear it nearly enough. And why in the gods’ name do you still insist on this stupid scarf after all these years?” His fingers finally managed to undo the knot and he tossed the red cloth onto his desk.

“I’ve _told_ you why—”

“I hardly think your mother will mind if you go without it every once in a while. It’s not as though she’s around to see. And honestly, Camelot is not that much further north, I don’t know why she would think you needed that flimsy thing to keep warm. Besides, are you twelve or twenty-six, Merlin?”

Merlin sighed heavily and grumbled as Arthur urged him to raise his arms. “Twenty-seven, actually, though I’m not surprised you forgot. Also, you’re doing my job again. Make up your mind about it, will you?”

Arthur reached into Merlin’s side of the wardrobe, pulled out the purple tunic, then shoved it into Merlin’s chest. “I’m not doing your job, _Mer_ lin. I simply knew you wouldn’t want to change and took it upon myself to get you halfway there. Now put that on, then dress me like a proper manservant.”

“Since when have I ever been a proper manservant?” Merlin muttered as he stuck his arms into the sleeves.

“Exactly. And you’ve only gotten worse since I let you into my bed.”

Merlin raised the tunic over his head and pulled it down. “I didn’t hear you complaining about propriety the other night.”

“Oh, ha ha, Merlin. Remind me to never let you speak to Gwaine ever again. Ever.”

Merlin chuckled as he reached for one of Arthur’s white shirts. He helped Arthur put his arms through, then leaned in close, bringing his mouth to Arthur’s ear. “‘Oh, _oh_ , Merlin...’” he mimicked in a hoarse voice.

Arthur glared at him. “I do _not_ do that.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” Merlin remarked as he tugged the shirt down. “You’re not very vocal when we do it like that. Perhaps it was more like ‘ah, ah, ah.’”

Arthur kept glaring, but Merlin detected a definite amused spark in his eye. “Merlin?”

“Shut up?”

Arthur smiled. “You guessed it.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Gaius was already hard at work when Arthur walked into the physician’s chambers. He was sitting at the workbench, slumped down a little but determinedly soldiering on. Arthur realised Gaius must not have rested at all after arriving that morning.

When Gaius looked up, it was with sunken eyes, but his voice came out strong. “Ah, Merlin, just in time. There was a growth of rue I encountered on the way that I could not afford to pass, and I’m afraid all the bending over has ruined my spine. I’ll need your help for a few days while I get the stores back up to their usual levels.”

“Of course, Gaius.” Merlin darted forward, helping Gaius up by providing a shoulder to lean on.

Arthur wondered if Gaius had failed to see him completely, but surely that hadn’t been the case considering Arthur had entered ahead of Merlin. Arthur felt a dull pang of jealousy as he watched Merlin guide Gaius to his pallet, whispering what he assumed were encouraging words in the physician’s ear. There’d been a time when Gaius had been a father figure to Arthur, back when Uther had been especially cold and almost callous in manner, and now it seemed that Merlin had taken up Arthur’s old role.

He wasn’t too put out by it, because as far as Arthur knew, Merlin didn’t have a father. The topic had come up once or twice over the years, but Merlin had gone uncharacteristically silent each time, so Arthur assumed the man was dead. Arthur was pleased that Merlin had found someone with whom he could connect in such a way, but that didn’t stop Arthur from feeling—perhaps vainly—a little envious.

The two of them seemed to be in deep conversation when Arthur drifted back into the present from his thoughts. Merlin’s brows were tilted in the way that meant worry, and Gaius’s expression seemed blank with a hint of troubled underneath. When Merlin cast a glance Arthur’s way, his face quickly smoothed out, and Arthur raised a brow.

Merlin rolled his eyes and stepped away from Gaius’s pallet, letting the man sit unaided. When he spoke again, his voice was much louder. “Sorry, Gaius, you know how kings are. They have to have the first and last word, or they’ll be even more insufferable than usual.”

Arthur bit back the retort on his tongue and forced himself not to rise to Merlin’s goading. There were serious matters to discuss, the far off town’s health being the first.

“How was the village when you left it, Gaius?” he asked. “You weren’t gone long, so I assume you were able to treat the disease quickly?”

“Yes, sire. It was fortunate for them that I’d seen this type of illness before and knew the required treatment. I instructed those not afflicted in the necessary measures and as soon as a handful people began showing signs of recovery, I left the rest in their hands. If there are any instances of relapse, I’ll be sent for again.”

Arthur nodded, pleased at the news. “Good.” He looked Gaius over again before continuing. “There is something else, but it can wait until after you’ve rested if you’re quite tired.”

“That depends entirely on what it is, sire. I’m not up for another journey just yet, but anything not too demanding I’ll do my best to help you with.”

Arthur furrowed his brow, wondering where to start. Should he relay the whole tale of Emrys or simply ask for information without giving a reason? Cutting to the chase would let the old man rest sooner, and Arthur could go into detail later, but Arthur deeply believed in showing everything up front and hiding nothing, especially when it came to those he trusted. Knowing Gaius, he wouldn’t mind a few minutes’ exposition, considering the importance of the matter.

Arthur walked to the workbench across from the pallet and sat down, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Merlin, who’d been fiddling with an empty phial on the table, sat down as well, seeing Arthur meant to start at the beginning. Arthur ignored Merlin’s drawn out sigh.

“You were my father’s advisor for many years, weren’t you, Gaius?” Arthur began.

Gaius nodded. “I was, sire.”

“You were present when magic was still legal.”

“Yes.”

“And did you often advise my father in matters pertaining to magic?” Arthur knew he must have; Gaius had advised his father on magical things even when Arthur was prince, though no doubt their approach was not as scientific in the days before the ban.

“Yes, sire.”

“And during the time before the Purge, did you ever practise magic yourself?”

Gaius’s expression didn’t change, at least not much. There was a slight thinning of his lips as he hesitated. “I did, sire. I’ve never had much magic, but I was able to increase the potency of many of my treatments and perform simple healing spells.”

“You’re well-learned in it, then?”

Gaius did raise an eyebrow at that, for which Arthur couldn’t blame him. Gaius would’ve had to be well-learned in order to be a proper advisor, and to be able to deal with so many magical threats as they’d seen in recent years. Perhaps the question was a bit redundant, but Arthur wanted to be thorough.

Gaius answered anyway. “I am. May I ask what you’re getting at, sire?”

Arthur folded his hands between his knees. “There’s… It’s been brought to my attention that I have a protector of sorts. Someone with great magical ability and with whom I supposedly share a destiny. The man who told me this said that with this person’s help I would bring about a time of peace and magic. That Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, would help me unite all of Albion.”

A sudden shattering of glass made Arthur jump, and a hissed “Shit!” from behind him made him look back. He was hardly surprised Merlin had managed to knock something over just by sitting still, and sighed when Merlin fell gracelessly off the bench in his haste to clean up his mess.

Honestly, how had he not got himself killed yet?

Arthur turned back around, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. At least there was a flash of humour in Gaius’s eyes, so Arthur knew he wasn’t alone in finding Merlin’s clumsiness amusingly pathetic.

“What I’m getting at, Gaius, is that I’m inclined to lift the ban on magic in order to see this era of peace. Naturally, this means I’d like some information on how magic works and all its uses. In short, to become as learned as you and make an educated decision,” Arthur explained. “However, Emrys is proving rather elusive, so I’m unable to consult him on anything for a first-hand account. Merlin informed me that the next best person to ask would be you, considering your extensive collection of books and knowledge.”

Gaius nodded slowly as he took in Arthur’s words. “I see.”

He pushed himself to his feet and walked over to where Merlin was sweeping up the broken glass, then shooed Merlin away.

“I’ll clean this up,” he said. “Show Arthur where the magic books are kept.”

Arthur stood up and Merlin looked at the physician, seemingly uncomprehending. “G-Gaius?”

“You’ve read every book in here just as thoroughly as I, have you not? Surely you can fill my shoes and aid Arthur for a few hours while I get some rest. When I need your help with the stores, I’ll send for you.”

“I...suppose so.” Merlin still looked hesitant, most likely because he wasn’t looking forward to all the tiring work that went with poring through books and research. And if it was apparently going to be his second time, Arthur could hardly blame him for being reluctant.

Even so, Arthur hadn’t planned on letting Merlin get out of it so easily. It would go faster if they split the work between them, like they did with most of Arthur’s kingly duties, and Arthur was certain there were books here written in the old language that Uther never let him learn. Not to mention he simply enjoyed Merlin’s company, and much preferred it to Gaius’s.

“No need to look so sad, Merlin,” Arthur quipped, smirking at him. “At least you won’t be mucking out stables or cleaning chamber pots while you’re stuck with me all day.”

Merlin grumbled and made for the steep stairs behind the workbench. “Books’re up here. Just be _careful_ , and don’t tear the pages. They’re the only books of their kind left.”

“Someone’s starting to sound a bit like Geoffrey.”

“Oh, shut up.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin knew that Gaius had been trying to be helpful when he assigned him the task of aiding Arthur in his research, but really it only served to make Merlin feel worse. And when Merlin had approached Gaius after finally managing to get a moment away from Arthur, Gaius had simply given him the eyebrow and said this would be a good opportunity to learn of Arthur’s feelings on magic, to gauge how he might react when Merlin eventually told him of who he really was. That Merlin should have thanked him!

But it was frustrating. Every time Arthur asked, “How do you suppose this works?” or, “Do you think someone would be likely to abuse this power?” or said, “It’d be amazing to actually see this,” Merlin had to bite his tongue and feign ignorance. He’d had to say that he only had a vague idea of how such a spell might work, or that yes, he supposed it would be fantastic to see something like a statue coming to life before one’s eyes. Merlin was only able to add clarification on the rare subjects which he felt wouldn’t risk giving him away.

The entire endeavour took nearly three weeks. Three weeks of endless studying, and even the occasional note-taking. When Arthur wasn’t holding court, or speaking with the knights about Morgana’s movements, he was either in Gaius’s workshop or in his chambers reading. And when they’d exhausted all of Gaius’s texts, he’d moved to the library.

The trouble was that it wasn’t all in one convenient volume; the information was scattered throughout various books under various categorised titles. There were books on healing, on enchantments and charms, on mind control and animal friendship. There were some for magical potions and poultices. There were others dealing with alchemy and transmutation—turning metal into gold like Gwen’s father was accused of, or turning sand into water like Merlin had tried ages ago when Anhora cursed Camelot for the unicorn’s death.

Then there were Merlin’s favourite books—though Arthur certainly didn’t know—that focused on controlling the elements. Spells and techniques used for conjuring thunderstorms and lightning strikes, making plants grow, causing the ground to shift and open up, creating fire from nothing to be cast in a large burst of flame. Firestorms, earthquakes, wind funnels—all the complicated, dazzling displays of power that Merlin was able to perform almost naturally but that he never let himself do because of the magnitude. That didn’t mean he had to deprive himself of reading about it, though.

There was even one book entirely for household magic, things like removing stains, cleaning up spills, heating food and water, mending clothes, and polishing armour. Arthur thrust the book in Merlin’s hands when he’d found it, laughing the whole time.

“Look at this, Merlin,” he said. “Pity you don’t have any magic, huh? You’d certainly be able to benefit from this.”

Merlin bit his tongue again, simply glaring at Arthur when he really wanted to let loose his torrent of inner thoughts.

_I’ve read this, you idiot. If you paid any attention, you’d notice how even the worst stains are removed from your clothing when the laundresses can’t do it, and how our bath is always the right temperature when we get in no matter how long the water’s been sitting. Your favourite red tunic has been mended seven times, and the only reason I don’t keep your breakfast hot is because you were ungrateful about it even after I started sharing your bed and you didn’t care enough to comment on it._

Arthur ruffled Merlin’s hair good-naturedly when Merlin just pouted. “It’s alright, Merlin, you’re still a decent servant even without magic.”

Merlin sighed and beat his head against the book in his hands. “Why, _why_ did I have to fall in love with this prat of a king?” he mourned. “Why couldn’t it be someone else, like one of the knights, or even one of the stable boys?”

Arthur tugged on a lock of Merlin’s hair, leaning in to whisper breathily in his ear. “That’s dangerously close to treason, Merlin.”

With no one around to see, he licked the shell of Merlin’s ear, making Merlin shudder at the touch. Merlin pushed him away, thrusting the book back into Arthur’s chest and ignoring the triumphant laughter.

“Maybe I’ll convince Emrys to replace you as manservant,” Arthur teased.

“I’m sure the last thing Emrys wants to do is use his magic to clean up after you,” Merlin muttered, picking up a book on magical creatures.

“Hmm. You’re probably right. The greatest sorcerer in the land probably has better things to be doing.”

Merlin nearly tripped on his way to a chair at the library table. What the hell was he supposed to do with that, Arthur teasing him one second and unknowingly praising him the next?

The book of magical creatures turned out to be more redundant information that Merlin knew. There was the bastet (which he was closely familiarised with), dragons and wyverns (which he knew a lot about, but not everything), griffins, trolls, unicorns, fomorroh (which he was much too acquainted with, and he rubbed the back of his neck while reading), and various other creatures of magic—cockatrice, afanc, goblin, pixie, Nathair, Lamia.

Besides the elemental books, Merlin was much more interested in the books that Arthur seemed to hoard for himself. Those focused on glamours, illusions, scrying, and curses; on protective spells like shields and barriers; on magical jewellery. The only book that Arthur held close which he then reluctantly passed to Merlin was a volume entirely about runes, because, like most of the other books Arthur dumped on Merlin, it was written solely in the language of the Old Religion. Merlin read it with so much interest that Arthur often had to poke him to remind him to translate. Merlin made a mental note to store the book away for later, because some of its contents could certainly come in useful.

Then, finally, when the three-week mark of their frenzied study of magic was nearing, and they were sat in Arthur’s chambers, reading late into the night by the light of low-burning candles, Arthur slammed a book closed, jerking Merlin out of his daze. At that point, Merlin hadn’t really been reading, but more like staring sleepy-eyed at the foreign words, blinking hard when they blurred together.

“It’s not...” Arthur seemed to be at a loss for words. He frowned, the tip of his forefinger pressed to his lips. “Among everything, there’s almost nothing entirely evil. Sure, there are curses and poisons and charms, but...even those could be used a certain way.” Arthur waved his hand over the books stacked high on his desk. “They’re just... _tools_.”

Merlin felt like a weight had been lifted, and sighed in relief. He was so glad to hear Arthur say that. “Yes, sire, exactly.”

Arthur’s hand dropped to the desk and he looked at Merlin with a furrowed brow. Had Merlin’s relief seemed too evident? Merlin had thought that since his view on magic was no secret, that Arthur would see he was just glad for him to finally have done enough research to come to the conclusion. Surely no other meaning could be gleaned from his sigh of relief?

“What?” Merlin asked when Arthur continued to stare at him quizzically.

Arthur shook his head and pushed back from the desk, getting to his feet. “Nothing. It’s only...nothing. I think we’ve done enough research, Merlin. Finally we can look ahead to other things.”

Merlin closed his own book and got up from the table to go to him. It was obvious Arthur was upset, but it wasn’t obvious why. Had Merlin done something wrong? What was with the sudden moodiness? Arthur should’ve been glad to be done with all this reading.

“What is it?” Merlin asked. “Tell me. Is it because of what your father—”

“It’s nothing to do with my father, Merlin,” Arthur nearly snapped. Merlin had started to raise a hand to put on Arthur’s shoulder, but he abruptly stopped at the tone. “It’s nothing to do with any of this.”

“Sire, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Merlin saw him fight with himself. He saw Arthur chew his lip and grind his teeth, so he knew whatever it was had to be something personal, something that was hard for Arthur to say even to the person he loved.

He turned suddenly, facing Merlin head on. “Are you happy, Merlin?” He shook his head, changing his words. “Given the circumstances, are you content?”

Merlin gaped, but was glad it wasn’t about something magic-related, or something he’d done wrong. “ _What_? Why—Where the hell is this coming from? What circumstances?”

“You know I never mean any of those things about you being a terrible servant, don’t you? I thought...It’s what we _do_ , so I thought...” He trailed off, searching Merlin’s eyes worriedly.

“Of course I know that!” Merlin exclaimed, chuckling. “Arthur, are you alright? Tell me what’s going on.” He finally let his hand touch Arthur’s shoulder, at which Arthur noticeably calmed.

Arthur shook his head again, chuckling a bit himself. “Maybe I’m being stupid.”

“You’re always being stupid. Now come on, tell me.”

“I...I realise it can be hard for you,” he began hesitantly, not meeting Merlin’s eyes. “I tell you to draw me a bath, and then you join me in it. I tell you to fetch my meals, and then you dine with me. I tell you to undress me, and then you lie with me. I understand the lines can be a bit blurred.”

“You think I’m not content just because I’m still your servant?”

“ _Are_ you? Merlin, I only want you to be happy, and too often there are times when it seems as though you’re not.”

So Arthur did notice Merlin’s moods then. Merlin knew he couldn’t fool Arthur entirely, but he’d hoped at least that it was well enough not to be commented on, or worse, worried about.

Merlin sighed and stepped closer, bracketing Arthur’s face with his hands before kissing him gently. “You’re right, Arthur. Teasing and bickering...That is what we do. But if it were not, I would tell you every day that you make me the happiest man alive. That I love you completely and unconditionally, and that I would do anything you asked of me. Being your servant doesn’t change that. No, I wouldn’t mind not having to clean the chamberpot or polish boots, but it’s not enough to make me dissatisfied with what we have. And I’m the king’s servant, I could pass the chores off to someone else if I truly didn’t feel up to doing it. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

Arthur’s posture slackened as he laid his hands on Merlin’s hips and melted into him. “Good. That’s...good,” he said against Merlin’s lips.

Merlin kissed him again, slow and reassuring. “So tell me. What brought this on? You were talking about magic being a tool and then you changed topic entirely.”

“Mmm. Just that...you called me ‘sire.’ Which you rarely do when we’re alone. I thought it might’ve meant something and I...I suppose I overreacted.”

“You _are_ stupid. The lines do sort of blur sometimes, _Arthur_ , and it’s hard keeping track of the roles. It was just a slip of the tongue.” To prove it, Merlin slid his tongue into Arthur’s mouth, making Arthur purr in delight. “I’ll be sure to call you a prat next time.”

Merlin felt the smile on Arthur’s lips as they kissed, and he felt the confidence seep back into Arthur’s body when a hand pressed against his lower back.

He would have to be careful from now on. Now that he’d assuaged Arthur’s fears about his happiness, he couldn’t give Arthur a reason to believe he was anything less than content. Perhaps he could blame his moods on the threat of Morgana, and claim he was worried for Arthur’s safety should Arthur ask again.

“Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m tired,” Merlin said, pulling away.

“It _has_ been a rather long day.”

“Like all the days you’ve had me staring at books.”

“Just remember to put out the candles before you fall into bed this time.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes, prat.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

There weren’t words to describe how glad Arthur was to be done with all the book-work. It had taken almost three weeks of relentless studying—something he hadn’t engaged in since he was a boy, and thought he’d never have to do again—but he was finally ready to move on to the next stage of his plan.

A loud, reverberating peal of thunder startled him awake the morning after he declared the reading finished, and a piercing crack of lightning made him tense up only seconds after. The wind was howling so fiercely that he could almost _feel_ it buffeting against the stone walls. It was like nature was at war with itself outside, and after being so intensely buried in magical texts of late, his first thought was that it was a sorcerer’s doing.

“You’re worse than a dog,” Merlin groaned, sliding an arm over Arthur and making him lay flat again. “Stop shaking, I’m trying to sleep.”

“‘M not shaking,” Arthur mumbled, lying back down and letting Merlin curl into him.

“Heart’s beating quickly, though. ‘S just a storm, Arthur.” Merlin yawned and smacked his lips a couple times, rubbing his cheek over Arthur’s chest.

“Doesn’t sound like just a storm. Sounds...unnatural.”

Merlin snorted softly. “Because we’ve haven’t gotten a storm like this in a while? Doesn’t mean there’s anything unnatural about it. Sometimes nature needs to vent just like we do.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just am, Arthur. Now shut up and let me sleep. And don’t move, you’re comfortable.”

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, trying to will himself back into unconsciousness. It didn’t work. He had knights out there, searching for Morgana as well as another group patrolling the border. How were they faring in the storm? And were the horses in the stables terribly frightened? What if they trampled one of the stable boys in their fright? Was it late enough in the morning yet for people in the lower town to have set up their stalls, and if so, was the heavy wind troubling them? How could Arthur get back to sleep with so many worries running through his head?

“I wonder if there’s a spell for stopping a storm like there is for creating one,” Arthur mused aloud.

“Nnn. Usually best to just let ones like this run their course. Not a good idea to mess with nature too much.”

“So there is a spell then?”

Arthur felt Merlin stiffen. “I don’t...think so. No. Probably not.”

“So then how would a sorcerer stop a storm without a spell?” Arthur asked.

“I suppose they’d have to be very powerful. I don’t know.”

“Do you think Emrys could stop one?”

“I dunno, maybe. Yes, probably. Would you stop talking and let me sleep?”

Arthur slid away and got out of bed, making sure not to raise the duvet more than necessary and let cold air get to Merlin. The stone floor on the soles of his feet made him shiver, but he ignored it.

“Hey!” Merlin exclaimed, looking annoyed and worried all in one. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see Gaius.”

“What the hell for? Come back to bed.”

“I can’t get back to sleep and there’s no use lying around when I could be doing something. I was going to speak with him today anyway.”

Arthur crossed the room to the wardrobe, quickly pulling out some clothes to wear.

“Arthur...”

“Just lay down, Merlin. Weren’t you just complaining about me not letting you sleep?”

Merlin pouted. “Well I’m up _now_. What do you need to see Gaius about?”

“I just need to speak with him before my day gets too busy and it gets put off,” Arthur replied as he put his arms in a red tunic. “Now that I’ve done the research I need to know what I can do better, and he’s the one to talk to about that. Why don’t you get breakfast?”

Merlin threw the duvet back and got out of bed. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’m sure there are other places you’re needed in the castle what with this storm going on, Merlin. The western tower in particular tends to leak due to the old stones. You should help the other servants before attending to your own duties.”

Merlin crossed his arms, raising a challenging eyebrow. “Is that an order, prat?”

Arthur looked him up and down as he adorned his trousers. Merlin was in his stubborn stance, so even if Arthur did make it an order—which he didn’t want to, and truthfully had no reason to—he doubted Merlin would follow it. He’d probably just sneak after Arthur like he always did when he had a mind to.

“No, it’s not. But it’s hardly anything worth being present for, Merlin. Just boring royal discussion.” He tugged a few times on his tunic. “See? Even wearing red to prove it.”

Merlin’s lips thinned, and his brows pushed together in thought. “Do you really want me not to go?” he asked.

“I just figured I’ve been working you so much these past few weeks that you’d be sick of the whole thing by now. I wanted to give you a break from it. _Maybe_ I feel a slight bit sorry,” he added in a quiet voice.

“Wow. How nice of you.”

“Shut up. But if you insist on not taking advantage of your extra time in bed, or on not getting any work done, then by all means, come listen to me consult with Gaius on the restructuring of magical law. I’m telling you it’ll bore you to tears.”

Merlin looked thoughtful again. “That’s really it? You’re just going to ask him about how you should change the law?”

“Of course it is! I wouldn’t lie to you, Merlin.”

Merlin sighed, looking utterly miserable. “I know you wouldn’t. Alright, fine, go. I _am_ tired. And you’ll tell me eventually anyway, so it’s not like I’m missing anything.”

Arthur finished tying the laces of his trousers and placed a quick kiss to Merlin’s lips. “Exactly. You’ll get the short version, after Gaius and I have come to a conclusion. Now quit looking so worried and go back to bed. I’m giving you a break for once; take it.”

Merlin’s body lost its defiant rigidness, and he rubbed his eyes as he sagged a little. “Yeah. Thanks.” He yawned and turned, padding back to bed and curling up just as another roll of thunder sounded outside.

Arthur sat down at the table to put on his boots. He’d miss Merlin’s presence, because he did have a busy day ahead of him, and Merlin surely would as well what with the rain, but he also thought Merlin deserved a rest. He’d seen the slump of Merlin’s shoulders and the weariness in his eyes the past few days, no matter how often Arthur tried to cheer him up with good-natured teasing. A few extra hours’ sleep was probably what Merlin needed.

Maybe he needed something else as well? The last time they’d lain together was weeks ago, because after days of tiresome reading, they both wanted nothing more than to fall right to sleep. Perhaps Arthur would have Merlin ready a bath tonight and they’d relax properly. Merlin always loved baths.

Arthur hurried through the corridors to Gaius’s chambers, and noticed the weather outside was about as bad as he’d feared. The sky was dark and foreboding without a single trace of the sun. Arthur again thought it was unnatural. Merlin may have known as much about magic as Gaius, but he hadn’t even looked out the window when telling Arthur it was fine. Arthur struggled to believe this wasn’t an act of sorcery.

Gaius’s door was open when Arthur reached it, and the man himself was just clearing away breakfast dishes at his table when Arthur entered.

“Good morning, sire.”

“Good morning, Gaius. I’ve come to tell you I feel the research is completed. I’ve done quite enough reading, enough to last me the rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sire. I’ve often found that reading keeps the mind sharp,” Gaius remarked, gesturing for Arthur to sit. “But it’s certainly good to hear you’re ready to move on. I assume you’re here because you have a few concerns.”

Arthur nodded as he sat on a stool by the workbench. “You were there before the Purge. I was wondering if you could give me a first-hand account of sorts. I was thinking of implementing a return to those standards, but with tighter restrictions in place about which type of magic is accepted. I want magic users to be able to thrive, but not to the point that they’re encouraged to become too powerful and pose a threat to the kingdom.”

“I understand. That sounds perfectly reasonable, sire.”

“Start with why it was banned in the first place. I know that magic killed my mother and that’s why my father hated it so much, but what kind of magic was it? I’ve searched through all the texts and couldn’t find anything completely evil.”

Gaius frowned, but said nothing. Arthur waited patiently for as long as he could, guessing that maybe the old man was just trying to wade through the fog of memories, but eventually he had to give at least a nudge.

“Gaius?”

“There...is a reason why you did not find anything of the sort,” Gaius finally said. “Many books and magical artefacts were destroyed in the Purge, those dealing with dark magic being among the first, in order to ensure that it was never learned.”

“Dark magic?” Arthur was certain he would’ve found a book on such a subject in all his research, or that Merlin would’ve brought it to him and translated it if necessary. “What do you mean by dark magic?”

“I’m sure you remember when you fought the skeletons.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. That was a form of necromancy. There’s also the terrible practice of blood sacrifice, and another kind of magic that deals with possession.”

Now Arthur was starting to remember. His father had often gone on about dark magic in his rants, but he’d never explained how it was any different than regular magic. Arthur had grown up lumping it all together. He saw the difference _now_ , of course, but _then_...

“Is dark magic the sort that corrupts the soul?” Arthur asked.

“Only in the way that it is very addicting,” Gaius explained. “Those who practise dark magic gain a tremendous amount of power, and as is usually the case, are reluctant to give it up. I don’t believe they become truly evil. They simply lose themselves to the power it gives them.”

“Have all these books been burnt? I think that may have been one of the things my father did right. I certainly don’t want this threatening Camelot.”

“I agree, sire. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to say if all the volumes have been destroyed. And there are those still living who retain the knowledge.”

Arthur sighed. “If only I could talk to Emrys about this. I’m sure he’d have an idea of how to handle the threat. I don’t want to put too much faith in him, but perhaps he’s powerful enough for this not to be too much of a concern.”

Gaius remained silent, simply staring at Arthur calmly.

“I wish he would talk to me,” Arthur continued. “According to the druid, we’re supposed to be building Albion together. This hardly feels like a cooperative effort.”

“I agree, sire,” Gaius said. “But perhaps Emrys has his reasons.”

“They had better be some damn good reasons.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

“ _Onhǽte þá wæter_.”

Merlin stuck his hand into the tub and smiled in satisfaction. The water was perfect. Now if Arthur would just get here...

Merlin sighed as he went to the window, and idly watched the goings-on of the castle courtyard. The sun had long since set, and the only time Merlin had seen Arthur today was when he’d looked out the window to see Arthur welcoming the drenched knight patrol back on the castle steps. Luckily the rain had settled to a light drizzle by then, but the men had looked so miserable that Merlin had decided he’d draw a bath for himself and Arthur that night. Both of them could benefit from it, Merlin thought.

But now, waiting for Arthur to return from whatever kingly duty he was engaged in, Merlin worried maybe his surprise was ill-planned. Maybe he should use the tub alone then have another servant take it away. Maybe they should just sit down and Arthur could tell him what he and Gaius had talked about. Not that Merlin hadn’t run straight to Gaius to find out as soon as he woke up, but still.

Arthur entered then, and Merlin spun on his heels toward him. Arthur’s face broke out in a smile when he saw the tub and he bolted the chamber door behind him before walking over.

“I was just thinking it was time for a bath,” Arthur said as he neared it. “I hadn’t seen you today to tell you. I’m glad you seemed to know anyway.”

Merlin crossed the room and knelt down to take off Arthur’s boots. “You were kind enough to let me sleep in this morning, and I thought I’d repay you. Not to mention that we could both use it.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Merlin stood up and Arthur raised his arms, letting Merlin pull his tunic over his head. Merlin started to undo the laces of Arthur’s trousers when Arthur pushed his hands away.

“Take off your tunic first,” Arthur said at the confused expression on Merlin’s face.

Merlin reached up to remove his neckerchief while Arthur watched. This was different from what they usually did; usually Merlin undressed Arthur, Arthur got in the bath, then Merlin joined him after undressing himself. But apparently Arthur was set on treating Merlin as an equal lately, or at least making an effort to bridge the gap. Merlin didn’t think it necessary—he’d mostly meant it when he told Arthur it didn’t bother him much—but he wasn’t going to complain.

Once Merlin had his tunic off, Arthur went at his own laces, undoing them and nodding for Merlin to do the same. And then they were both bare, stripped of everything.

Merlin loved this moment the most, loved the way their garments fell to the floor with a whisper, like a physical expression of the boundaries between them melting away. Arthur the king became Arthur the man, and Merlin similarly cast off his roles. He was no longer Emrys the warlock or Merlin the manservant; he was just Merlin.

As they slid into the perfectly warm water, Merlin’s magic thrummed happily through his veins. His magic always seemed most pleased when he and Arthur lay together, and it was as though it could sense the incoming connection, pulsing excitedly in time with his heart. It yearned for Arthur’s touch as much as Merlin did.

Merlin sighed and settled back into the comfortable cradle of Arthur’s body, dipping his knees briefly under the water before letting them resurface.

“You should wash your hair,” Arthur said into Merlin’s neck, breath ghosting over Merlin’s skin. “Don’t think we got around to it last time.”

Merlin hummed contentedly as Arthur pressed kiss after kiss down his throat, and raised one of his wet hands to reach back and slide his fingers into Arthur’s hair.

“Wash it for me?” Merlin breathed.

“Move forward a bit.”

Merlin slid forward, reluctantly moving out of position and sitting with his legs curled up to his chest. He heard the splash of water as Arthur raised his arm to reach over the side of the tub to grab the cloth and soap, then the splash of the cloth being soaked and lathered. Merlin tilted his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for the wet warmth to pour over his scalp.

He flinched a bit the first time Arthur wrung the water out into his hair, but then relaxed. He felt his hair mould to his head, felt the water drip down his spine. Arthur repeated it twice more, until Merlin’s hair was thoroughly soaked with soapy water.

And then there were Arthur’s strong, sure fingers combing over his skull, working the soap into it with slow purpose. Merlin couldn’t help but sigh again, his magic so content that Merlin briefly worried he might start actually glowing.

“You’re always happiest in the bath,” Arthur murmured.

“Mmm. Aren’t you?”

“Maybe. I can’t decide which I like better, watching you while I bathe you or watching you sleep.”

Merlin nearly chuckled, but then, Arthur always had liked taking care of people in some way or another, even if he’d be the last to admit it. It was what made him a good king, because he cared about Camelot’s citizens. Was it really so surprising to hear that Arthur enjoyed seeing Merlin taken care of, or that he liked seeing Merlin safely in his bed, peacefully sleeping without worry?

“I know which one I prefer,” Merlin replied.

“I’m sure you do.”

Arthur’s fingers left Merlin’s scalp, and Merlin instinctively squeezed his eyes shut tighter in preparation. Arthur’s cupped hands poured water over his head, again and again until all the soap was rinsed out. Merlin let his head fall forward, resting it on his knees while he listened to Arthur washing himself with the cloth behind him.

“I want you to write the speech, if that’s alright,” Arthur said a few moments later, after he’d finished with himself and applied the cloth to Merlin’s back.

“What speech?”

“For when the law is changed.”

Merlin felt his stomach give a painful twist. “Oh.”

“Do you not want to?”

It wasn’t that Merlin didn’t want to. He’d actually had dreams about Arthur asking him, had spent countless days thinking about the words for when the time finally came. He’d simply imagined Arthur asking him some other time—certainly not while they were in the bath.

And he hadn’t imagined how caught up in his own lie he’d be.

“I do. But are you sure?” Merlin asked.

“You’ve written speeches for me before.”

“This is different. This is bigger. I thought maybe you’d want to do it yourself,” Merlin admitted. “Is it really a job for a servant?”

That must have been the wrong thing to say, because the hand washing Merlin’s back abruptly disappeared and forced Merlin to turn around. Arthur was frowning, his brow furrowed in hurt and worry.

“I thought I made it clear that you’re more than just a servant, Merlin,” Arthur said. “You told me—”

“I know I’m more than just a servant. Arthur, I’m in the _bath_ with you, we sleep in the same bed every night. How could I not know?”

“So why would you ask me that?”

“Because I’m not...I’m not important.”

Arthur’s eyes widened so much it was almost funny. “What? What the hell do you mean—How could you think—What?”

Merlin opened his mouth but then promptly shut it again. He couldn’t say what he wanted to, that it was only his magic that gave him any real significance, and that since Arthur didn’t know about it, he therefore _couldn’t_ be of any importance. Even if Arthur declared otherwise, that’s really all Merlin was to him, wasn’t it? Just the ordinary, clumsy servant that Arthur had happened to fall in love with. Nothing special about him, not at all. Nothing _important_. How could Arthur see him any differently if he didn’t really know him?

Arthur seemed to be almost angry, his nostrils flared and his breath coming heavily for a few seconds before he calmed himself. Then he raised a hand and cupped the back of Merlin’s neck, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“Merlin, you really are stupid sometimes,” he said. “I love you. I trust you. I’m not sure what this kingdom would be without you. Sure this Emrys person has saved my life a few times, and we have this grand destiny together, but you’ve always been by my side. You’re the most important person in the world.”

Merlin almost told him. He felt the words stuck in his throat, on the tip of his tongue, screaming in his head.

_I’m Emrys. I’m Emrys!_

It would be easy to say, to blurt it out right then.

_I’m Emrys. I have magic. I am magic._

But Merlin didn’t. It was more than the fact that their bathing ritual felt almost sacred, and that exposing himself for the liar he was while engaging in their happiest act would taint it. However, that was only a small part of it really.

He mostly didn’t say it because it didn’t feel like the right time. They were both too caught up in the moment, and Merlin didn’t want to say it in the midst of emotion. He had decided earlier that he’d wait until after the ban was lifted, and that was what he was going to do. He would tell Arthur calmly, in as clear a voice as possible, and he would suffer whatever consequences came then.

He also hesitated because Arthur had just said he trusted him. How could he reveal that he was undeserving of that trust so soon after hearing those words?

“I don’t...I mean, I’m not sure how you see it that way,” Merlin said slowly. “But thank you. I’d love to write the speech for you.”

Arthur sighed in exasperation, then picked up the cloth from the bottom of the tub and pulled Merlin to him, cradling him again.

“And I’m not sure how you could see yourself in so negative a light,” Arthur said. “You deserve more than what I give you.”

Merlin chuckled a little. “At least you finally see _that_.”

“I did want to give you something,” Arthur admitted as he wiped the cloth over Merlin’s chest. “You’ve already turned down the title of consort, but I thought money maybe, or land—”

“What the hell would I do with land?”

“Exactly. I couldn’t think of what you could possibly want.”

_I want you to know who I am. I want you to see the real reason why I’m important. To know everything I’ve done for you, not as Emrys, but as Merlin._

“I just want this,” Merlin said, letting his head fall back onto Arthur’s shoulder. “You said it yourself, I’m happiest in the bath. Shut up about everything else and just bathe me.”

Merlin refused to let their time together as just Arthur and Merlin be ruined with more speech that reminded him of his lies. He slid back a bit more, until he was tucked comfortably between Arthur’s legs, and closed his eyes as Arthur washed him.

He had hoped the mood wasn’t utterly shattered, because he did still want to finish the night the way he’d planned. It would still be difficult, still feel a bit wrong, but after the past few weeks, Merlin needed the released tension more than anything. He needed to forget himself, to be just Arthur’s Merlin in every possible way.

Even though Arthur didn’t know the exact specifics of why Merlin needed it, he clearly knew that Merlin did. He hadn’t even bothered to rinse away the soap still on Merlin’s skin before his hand began drifting downward, caressing over Merlin’s stomach and making for his cock. And because Merlin had been pent up with energy waiting for this moment since the beginning, he was already half hard. It took little time for him to fill in Arthur’s firm, stroking grip, every tug adding to the warm pleasure in his groin.

He moaned appreciatively when Arthur started mouthing at his throat again, and when Arthur began stroking faster, the water making the slide so much better, his moans quickly became sharp, little gasps of breath. He kept his eyes closed, but he let his hand drift up again, curling in Arthur’s hair as he held tight and jerked his hips up enough to have the water splashing loudly in the tub.

“Don’t know which I like more,” Arthur said into his ear. “When you’re forceful and demanding or breathless and needy. Both definitely have their appeals.”

“The—ah!” Merlin tensed, his back arching when Arthur thumbed the slit of his cock. “The w-water’s cold.”

Arthur chuckled. “Is that your subtle way of saying you want to move to the bed?”

“I could be less subtle and say I want you to fuck me.”

Arthur moaned into Merlin’s throat, then used his hands to rinse the soap from Merlin’s skin so hurriedly that Merlin laughed. Arthur stood without another word, pulling on Merlin’s arm to urge him up with him.

Arthur tried to steer them directly to the bed but Merlin slipped out of Arthur’s grasp, giggling when Arthur groaned.

“You know you’re going to complain if we have to sleep in a wet bed afterwards,” Merlin said. “Come here and let me dry you off first.”

Arthur clearly wanted to complain now, but saw the prudence in it. Merlin picked up the towel and rubbed first Arthur dry, then himself. Of course, Arthur wouldn’t stop kissing Merlin all over while he did it, so Merlin ended up being still a bit damp when he finally gave in and let Arthur pull him to the bed.

When he was face down in the duvet, his knees spread and his arse bared to Arthur, he wondered how they would do it tonight. It felt like a guilty pleasure when Arthur started kissing down his back, marking a trail down his spine until he reached the end and placed a slow kiss to his hole. Arthur’s tongue laved over the pinched skin, and Merlin shuddered and keened, instinctively pushing back for more, but Arthur chuckled and pulled away.

“Not tonight,” Arthur said, caressing Merlin’s thigh soothingly. “It’s been a long day, otherwise I’d do it, open you up nice and slow.”

There was a shift in weight on the bed and then an oily finger replaced Arthur’s tongue, pushing in and making Merlin inhale sharply. But then Merlin repeated the action he had before, pushing back into it and taking it deeper. Arthur didn’t pull away when he chuckled this time.

He started pumping his finger in and out, swirling it and loosening up the clench. Merlin curled his fingers in the duvet, trying to breathe evenly as he felt the stretch, and let pain give way to pleasure.

Merlin wished they would go slow tonight. He wanted to be pulled apart piece by piece and spread thin, and his magic seemed to want it as well. But he agreed that it had been a tiring day, a tiring few weeks even. This wouldn’t be the long, drawn out sex they had after a few hours holding court or on mid-winter evenings by the fire. This would be neither slow nor hurried; it would simply be. And it would be passionate, exactly what each of them needed to rest their minds.

So as Arthur rubbed a little more oil into the cleft of Merlin’s arse, adding to the slickness still left over by both the bath water and Arthur’s tongue, Merlin cleared his thoughts and tried to forget the lies and the mask of Emrys. He let Arthur wrap an arm around his middle to pull him up and back a bit, let Arthur tear away the idea and be left with nothing but the man as he was breached and entered slowly. And when Arthur started his sweet slide out and back in, slow to ease the initial pain, Merlin didn’t let himself think of this as another betrayal.

Arthur went slow at first, his thrusts deep and languid, but he knew how Merlin liked it, hard and just a little bit rough. Eventually he grabbed hold of Merlin’s thighs and quickened the pace, giving sudden snaps of his hips to plunge in and drive all the breath out of Merlin as he took it.

One of Merlin’s hands stayed fisted in the duvet, but the other he moved to grip Arthur’s thigh, because he needed to feel the tautness of the muscles in Arthur’s legs as he thrust. He could feel the result in his arse, and hear the “nng—nng—nng” that was forced from his own throat, but he had to feel the source as well. Maybe it was because his magic loved being so acted upon by its king, and was already singing through his body, edging him closer to his peak.

“Arthur...Please...”

Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s shoulder before increasing the tempo, giving up force for speed, and Merlin dug his nails into Arthur’s skin as the pressure built. His low moans once again turned into gasps, and now it was a race to the finish, one slap of flesh hardly done echoing before the next sounded. Merlin clenched around him, felt the stiffness of Arthur’s cock like a solid spear, but even if he didn’t he’d know Arthur was just as close as him. Arthur’s nails, like Merlin’s, had started to pierce skin as he held on, and his breath was coming just as quickly.

He only lasted a few strokes when Arthur finally reached under and touched him. It came rushing out of him, bursting forth with staggering intensity. His eyes rolled back in his head and his vision blurred, and he was only half-aware that Arthur had stopped thrusting to spill inside him. It was a few seconds before Merlin came back to himself and slumped to the bed, Arthur’s cock slipping free.

It was another few minutes of just lying there happily with his eyes closed before Merlin felt another shift on the bed, along with what must have been Arthur’s chin on his chest. He blinked his eyes open and saw Arthur break out into a wide grin, the kind that reminded Merlin of the playful prince Arthur used to be.

And then Arthur was slanting his eyebrows up, gasping, “Oh, oh, oh!”

Merlin cuffed his ear, but couldn’t help laughing. And alright, maybe he _had_ deserved it. “I do not sound like that.”

“But you _do_. And I love it.”

Merlin stroked his hair, feeling happier than he had in a while. Maybe everything was going to be okay. Maybe he should stop worrying that Arthur would react poorly to the truth and hope that times like these made up for all the years of deceit.

Arthur slid away and came back with the damp cloth from the bath. Merlin raised his hips.

“Am I allowed to bring up Emrys again or should I wait until morning?” Arthur asked as he applied the cloth to Merlin’s arse.

Merlin swallowed. His magic was still very much pleased, and his arse was still throbbing from the last few frantic moments, but underneath the satisfaction now lay a coiled bitterness. Why did Arthur always have to pick the worst times to ask these sorts of questions? Just when Merlin had managed to distance himself from everything and feel at peace, reality came slamming back.

“Why?”

Arthur hesitated before speaking, wiping down Merlin’s stomach. “I need to meet him, Merlin.”

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. “Why?” he repeated.

“Just once, before I lift the ban. I need to know he really exists. I need to see his power for myself. You can tell him I don’t need to see his face; it can be in the forest at night if that’s what he wants. But I need physical proof. Do you think he’ll understand that?”

Merlin did understand. To Arthur, like to everyone else, Emrys was an idea, a legend. Even Morgana was so frightened of him because she probably sometimes forgot Emrys was only human. It made sense that Arthur would want something a little more substantial than tales and hearsay.

“You really think I’m going to let you go out alone into a bandit-infested forest at night?” Merlin quipped as Arthur went about the room snuffing out candles. “And don’t give me that ‘I’m the best warrior in the realm, _Mer_ lin, I can handle a few bandits’ nonsense.”

Merlin got under the duvet, and as Arthur slipped into bed beside him, Arthur chuckled. “It’s true, though. But even if it wasn’t, Emrys will protect me.” He yawned and rolled Merlin over, sliding an arm around him. “Emrys always protects me,” he finished sleepily.

Merlin closed his eyes and frowned into his pillow. He could say it now if he wanted to, whisper it into the darkness. _I’m Emrys._ _I’m real. Don’t hate me._

He didn’t say it.

He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur sighed and adjusted his armour. It’d been a while since he’d worn it, and though the weight on his shoulders was like welcoming an old friend, he’d forgotten how to properly move in it. Despite the gambeson, it was starting to chafe around the neck.

Arthur peered up at the moon through the trees. How long would Emrys keep him waiting? Merlin had said he didn’t live far, which of course sparked all kinds of questions that he’d kept to himself because Merlin seemed to hate when he brought Emrys up.

If Emrys lived outside of the city, how did he so effectively manage to protect him? It had taken Merlin a whole day’s ride just to get to him and back, but then Arthur didn’t know how much of Merlin’s day was actually spent in the tavern, so he couldn’t be sure.

And then there were the questions that Arthur didn’t dare ask. Where had Merlin met Emrys, and when? How long had they been friends? How long had Merlin known Emrys was protecting him? Had Emrys ever practised dark magic?

Arthur pushed away the last one. Merlin wouldn’t befriend an evil sorcerer. Even he wasn’t so stupid. And if it was destined that Albion enter a time of peace, it was unlikely such methods would be used to achieve it.

Arthur hadn’t heard any footsteps, but suddenly a cloaked figure was seated next to him against the tree, the shadows seeming to enshroud him even when the leaves swayed and the moonlight shifted. Arthur jerked back in surprise, putting a hand on his sword instinctively.

“It’s me,” the figure said. A shiver went down Arthur’s spine. It sounded as though an hundred hollow voices spoke at once. “Don’t be frightened.”

“You’re Emrys?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you sound like that?”

“What did the druid tell you? About me?”

Arthur thought back. Oh. “That Emrys is someone close to me,” he said. “That he hid his identity so he could continue on at my side.”

“He was right.”

“You don’t have to hide, you know. Whoever you are.” Arthur expected his statement to be meaningless, and wasn’t surprised when Emrys rejected him.

“You’ll know when the ban is lifted. I wouldn’t want to...influence the outcome.”

“You think I would go back on my word just because I might not like who you turn out to be? Do you really think me so shallow?”

How could he possibly think that of him? Arthur prided himself on not letting others sway his actions and decisions. He’d worked hard to become informed in the matter of magic, and he saw the need for change regardless of who Emrys was. The law would still go into effect even if Emrys suddenly died and their destiny fell apart. Because it was the right thing to do.

“No,” Emrys said. “I don’t. It’s also easier for me this way. I’m being rather selfish.”

Even with the masked voice, Arthur heard regret. Arthur stared at the inky blackness beside him, trying to distinguish features. He saw from the position of the legs that the man was sitting cross-legged against the tree as he was, but due to the drape of the cloak, he couldn’t see if those legs were skinny or muscular or average. There was the occasional flash of a pale hand, but certainly nothing with which to put together an image.

“If you’re close to me then you must know Gaius,” Arthur said.

“I do.”

“Does he know your identity?”

The following silence was answer enough. Arthur was only momentarily angry at the physician, though. Gaius had to keep many secrets, not only in his role as doctor, but before as Uther’s advisor. And like with Merlin, it was not Gaius’s secret to tell.

“He does,” Emrys said eventually. “He wants me to tell you.”

“Have you spoken with him recently?”

For some reason, Emrys chuckled at that, and it sounded eerie in the hollow echoes of the many voices. Arthur wished he would drop whatever spell it was and talk to him properly.

“I have. He says you mean to lift the ban soon but wanted to speak with me. I’m sorry if you feel I’ve not been _cooperative_.”

“There’s that,” Arthur said. “But I also wanted to be sure you’re not just a story. And I have questions.”

Emrys sighed. “I assumed you would.”

He seemed to wriggle a bit, as though settling in. The next thing Arthur knew, there was a ball of blue light floating above them, and Arthur recognised it immediately.

 _It is him, then,_ he thought, smiling. He looked over at Emrys, hoping maybe the light would shine on his face a bit, but his head was tilted downward, the hood too low. All Arthur could make out was the shadowy definition of a nose.

The light gradually faded as Emrys let it go. “You wanted to see my magic, didn’t you?” he asked.

“Yes. Just how powerful are you? The druid said you’re the most powerful in all of Albion.”

Emrys hesitated. “Does that frighten you?”

Arthur considered. “Some, yes. But if you’re more powerful than Morgana and you claim to be on my side, it would frighten me much less.”

“Power is very difficult to measure.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how that could be. Did that mean Emrys was or wasn’t more powerful than her? It sounded more like he didn’t know. Most likely he had no idea where Morgana was just as Arthur didn’t, and wasn’t able to gauge her abilities as they grew.

“Is magic easy for you?” Arthur asked. “The light, just now. You didn’t say any words.”

“Magic is complicated. Most sorcerers do need to say an incantation, and skilled ones are able to simply say it in their head to get the same results. Conjuring an orb is rather basic. I could quite literally do it in my sleep. But other spells are harder to master. Controlling life for example.”

Arthur saw Emrys’s hand clearly then, the slim fingers stretched out in the space between their bodies. The hand hovered over the grass and began to rise slowly, and Arthur gasped when he saw first the stem and then the petals of a flower open up.

“Nature spells, elemental magic, and all the basic things are what’s easy for me,” Emrys explained. “It’s just another muscle I flex at my whim.”

“You like it.”

Emrys’s hand retreated, leaving only the newly grown flower. “I live and breathe it. I used to think I was cursed, I used to even frighten myself. But after saving your life so many times I realised that having all this power is a gift. I understand what my life is for and why I am the way I am. Magic isn’t just a part of me—it is me. It’s who I am. I’m nothing without magic.”

The last part sounded rather sad, but Arthur could understand; he felt the same way about his sword. He may be king, and an important ruler, but he always felt he was a warrior first. If he lost the ability to fight, who was he?

“What’s difficult for you then?” Arthur asked.

“Healing spells, in particular, it seems. I try not to let it frustrate me, but...it does.”

Arthur chuckled. “I know how that is. It took me ages to learn how to parry correctly as a boy.”

“I suppose there are some similarities. Though I doubt you were born with a sword in your hand. It makes me angry when I can feel my magic so acutely and yet it doesn’t do as I tell it.”

“You make it seem like magic is sentient.”

“It feels that way sometimes.”

“And dark magic?”

Arthur didn’t have to be able to see Emrys to know he’d tensed up at the words. “I don’t practise dark magic. But I’ve felt it before. It feels...wrong.”

“Evil?”

“I’m not sure what evil is anymore. But I suppose that’s a good way to describe it, yes.”

The words seemed to echo in Arthur’s head. _I’m not sure what evil is anymore_. That sounded like something someone would say after having had to do unspeakable things.

Hadn’t Arthur already thought of that, though? He’d likened Emrys to an assassin before, and here again was proof that the man quite literally preferred the shadows. His intentions were good, but were his actions?

“You said you don’t practise dark magic,” Arthur began. “But have you ever enchanted someone? Have you ever done harmful magic?”

He knew he had to have. Protecting someone came at a cost.

“Yes. I’ve killed people with my magic, though I try to limit it to my enemies.”

“Try?”

“There was...I once had to poison one of my friends because they were a threat to Camelot. It was a while ago and the circumstances have certainly changed since then, but I still regret it. There are things I should have done instead. So much would be different.”

It actually hurt something deep inside Arthur. He didn’t know Emrys, but the fact that Emrys had to go against someone he cared for in order to save Camelot made Arthur feel even worse about the situation than he had before.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Arthur said earnestly. “I know it must have been hard. Thank you.”

Even then, it felt inadequate. Who knew what other sacrifices Emrys had made? Arthur wasn’t sure he had words to express his gratitude.

“You’re welcome.”

The silence then was a bit awkward, and Arthur spent it touching the flower, rubbing the soft petals to see if it was real or an illusion. It was real.

“Do you know any dark magic?” Arthur asked suddenly. “I know you wouldn’t use it, but do you know of it? Gaius said all the books were burnt and only intangible knowledge is left.”

“Very little. I did something once to block Morgana’s magic so you could take back Camelot, but I wouldn’t call that dark magic. At least, not what the way I used it.” He sighed. “As I said, magic is complicated.”

Arthur cast his mind back to when he’d retaken Camelot a couple years ago. Morgana had said an incantation, threatening to kill him, and then nothing had happened.

Now that Arthur really thought back to it, hadn’t she mentioned the name Emrys?

“She knows you,” Arthur said.

Emrys shook his head, his hood swaying side to side. “She knows _of_ me. Like you, she does not know my identity. Only Gaius and...and the druids know.”

“And Merlin.”

“Yes, and Merlin.”

Arthur searched through the multitude of questions swirling in his head and tried to pick one. He settled on, “Where did you learn the little bit of dark magic?”

“I have a spellbook.”

“Can I see it? After magic isn’t outlawed and I know who you are?”

“If you like. I don’t think you’ll be able to read much of it.”

Then Emrys did something Arthur totally didn’t expect—he yawned.

“Sorry,” he said.

Arthur chuckled. “It’s fine. I only have a few hundred more questions.”

“Great.”

“Can I see you again after tonight?”

It was almost a minute before Arthur got an answer. “We can meet here twice more. Once for more questions and once after magic is legal. I’ll reveal myself the night after you announce it.”

Arthur almost asked if they could reschedule. He planned to celebrate with Merlin the night after he gave the speech. But a night of celebratory sex could be pushed back to the next night, or even the next morning. Arthur had a feeling it was important to meet Emrys first.

“Just a few more questions for tonight then,” Arthur said. “Since you’re obviously tired.”

“Alright.”

Arthur considered carefully. What did he want to know the answer to first?

“Do you know any good sorcerers who are willing to help the kingdom?”

“The druids are more than happy to help. There are powerful healers among them as well, which will make up for my lack of skill in that area. There are a few others who have sworn allegiance to me, and because I go where you go, they will follow us.”

That was good to hear. “Is Emrys your real name?” Arthur asked next. “I know you won’t tell me what it is if it’s not, but—”

“It’s what the druids call me. As the prophecy names you the Once and Future King, it names me Emrys.”

“Did you grow up with the druids? Do you have any family?”

“I grew up in a village. And yes, I have family. I have people I care about. People I love.” Emrys got up suddenly, his cloak billowing in the wind. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Arthur hastened to his feet. “But—”

“I’m leaving,” he snapped.

“Just one last thing,” Arthur pleaded. “Please.”

The shrouded figure turned to face him, but it no longer put Arthur ill at ease. The cloak was just as much armour as Arthur’s chainmail, and something for Emrys to hide behind.

“What?”

“My sister...Morgana...Do you think dark magic has corrupted her? Do you think she can be saved?”

Arthur wasn’t sure if Emrys sighed or if the noise was the leaves in the wind. Either way, it seemed like a prelude to a negative answer.

“Arthur. Morgana is driven by many things. If it was only magic and the desire for power fuelling her actions, then perhaps. But she carries much hatred and fear, and longs for vengeance. I’m afraid the possibility is unlikely. I wish it weren’t so.”

Emrys turned away, walking deeper into the forest away from Camelot, but Arthur walked after him.

“Fear? What is Morgana afraid of?”

“Me,” Emrys stated simply. “As she should be.”

Arthur could barely keep up with Emrys’s steps, and gripped the sleeve of his cloak to stop him, just once more. Emrys halted, but didn’t turn.

“And you?” Arthur asked. “What are you afraid of?”

“Failing.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Teleportation spells existed. Merlin knew this because Morgause had done it, and the witch he’d seen when he first came to Camelot had done it right in the middle of the castle courtyard. But he didn’t know how to do it. He, the great and powerful Emrys, didn’t know how to teleport.

Merlin had a plan for this particular night’s meeting, but it would only work once. For the next time, he’d have to know how to teleport his way back to the castle. He wouldn’t be able to run full speed through the night, ducking behind barrels and bales of hay trying to get back to the physician’s chambers.

“This is getting a bit ridiculous, don’t you think, Merlin?” Gaius asked with a disapproving brow raise.

Merlin pulled off his cloak and threw it into his old room. As he bent down to undo the strings of his boots, he hopped over to Gaius, ignoring the man’s earlier question.

“Can you smell the forest on me?” he asked.

Gaius leant forward and sniffed. “No, I think the cloak’s kept most of it out. What _are_ you doing?”

Merlin was taking his trousers off now, and throwing them back into the room along with the cloak.

“All part of my plan, don’t worry.”

“You really expect Arthur to believe you’ve been walking around the castle that way?”

“I will have been!” Merlin called over his shoulder on his way out.

He’d left his boots with Gaius as well, though it wasn’t his only pair, not since Arthur had bought him newer ones a few years ago. Otherwise he’d have a bit of explaining to do. Now he simply ran barefoot through the corridors, past the occasional posted guardsman, in only his grey tunic that came down just to the top of his knees.

It was rather unnerving, running around nearly naked, but also rather necessary.

Merlin seemed to have made good time. Arthur was just taking off his boots when he entered the king’s chambers.

“There you are!” Merlin exclaimed.

Arthur looked bewildered. “Me? Where did _you_ go? I came back and—”

Merlin slapped his forehead. “Was the meeting with Emrys tonight?”

“Merlin, you’re the one who told me it was. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“That was days ago, and…” Merlin shook his head and lowered his arm back to his side. “I’m sorry, I just...I woke up needing to use the chamber pot but then saw you weren’t there and I...I overreacted.”

Arthur gaped. “Oh? Oh, you overreacted? Merlin, did you not even take the time to put trousers on? How long have you been running around the castle like that? What on earth possessed you to—”

“I was worried, alright? I was cold and you weren’t there and my mind jumped to all these conclusions and I thought maybe someone working for Morgana had got into the castle and...and I’m sorry!”

Merlin surprised even himself with the way his voice broke on the word sorry. He wasn’t a good actor, not even a particularly good liar, but he _was_ sorry. Maybe not for the reasons he’d given aloud, but certainly for the ones beneath the surface, the ones he couldn’t yet voice. That alone was something he didn’t need to feign.

Arthur blinked, his brows drawing together in a puzzled expression. “Merlin…”

Merlin sighed, and spoke lower this time. “I’m sorry,” he repeated as he crossed the room to Arthur. “I’m fine, really. Let’s not make a big deal of it. Just remind me before we go to bed next time. If there is a next time?”

“Y-Yes, twice more. Merlin, I had no idea—”

“Oh shut up, you already call me a girl enough as it is. I’d really like to just go to sleep and forget it.”

“Right, of course.”

Merlin went to the bed and slid under the covers, then curled up on his side. He felt equally relieved and horrible for having got away with it, though the horrible part largely outweighed the relief when Arthur tucked himself neatly behind him, holding him close. Arthur’s forehead pressed into the nape of Merlin’s neck, his breath ghosting across Merlin’s back.

“Merlin.”

“Hm?”

“You’re such a girl, worrying about me.”

Merlin elbowed him in the stomach.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin managed to wake up before Arthur the next day, and after getting dressed, went straight to the kitchens for breakfast.

There was a heavy weight in his chest this morning, as well as a knot in his throat that he couldn’t quite swallow down, but he ignored it and tried to put on as cheery a face as usual. He greeted the kitchen-maids with his customary warmth and hoped they didn’t notice anything amiss.

Returning to Arthur’s chambers, Merlin steeled his nerves for the impending conversation and the rest of the day. He set their breakfast trays down on the table, walked back to the lump under the duvet that was his king, and bounced onto the bed.

Arthur didn’t startle awake, because if he wasn’t sleeping outside, he never woke quickly. He only groaned into his pillow and snaked a hand out, searching for Merlin.

Merlin gave Arthur his hand, letting him clasp them together and feeling guilty when such a small act of tenderness made him smile.

“I’ve got breakfast,” Merlin said.

Arthur groaned.

“There are things to be done today,” Merlin continued.

“That’s the trouble with being King, Merlin. There are things to be done every day.”

Merlin wouldn’t usually be so gentle, but this morning he felt particularly touchy. He placed his other hand on the warmth of Arthur’s side and rubbed him through the duvet.

Sometimes he saw the arrogant, laughing prince of old in his head and longed for things to be simple again. What would things be like if Arthur wasn’t the king but just an ordinary citizen, free to spend his time as he wished?

“I know, Arthur. Best get started.”

Arthur sighed. “Alright.”

He released Merlin’s hand and edged out of bed. Merlin let him go, suddenly wishing that they didn’t have to start this day, have this conversation. He looked down at the rumpled sheets forlornly, wanting to curl up on top of them.

“I got something for you,” Arthur said across the room.

Merlin snapped out of it and got up, then walked back to the table. “For me?”

Arthur produced a flower from behind his back, holding it up. At first, Merlin thought it was a joke, because Arthur wasn’t the flower-giving sort of person. But then he looked at the flower more closely.

There was almost a rainbow in its petals. For the most part they were a vibrant purple, but swirls of blue and pink and even a bit of orange were visible in the velvety bloom. It clearly wasn’t natural, and Merlin didn’t need just the colour alone to tell him that.

He knew because _he_ had made that flower. He’d crafted it from the life energy of the earth, pulled the strands of nature together without so much as a word in order to create the thing which Arthur now held out to him.

Merlin raised his hand quickly, thinking Arthur might notice how he was shaking if he moved too slowly. But he wasn’t quite able to keep the shock off his face, and since Arthur really wasn’t the type to pick flowers, he figured he didn’t need to. He’d’ve been surprised by the action regardless of where the flower came from.

“This from someone who called me a girl just last night?” Merlin quipped as he curled his fingers around the stem and took the gift.

Arthur shrugged, but seemed pleased with Merlin’s reaction. “I thought you’d like it. Do you like it?”

Merlin touched the petals. The flower was obviously dying now that it’d been plucked from the ground, but much slower than any normal flower. Arthur hadn’t even put it in water overnight.

Merlin hadn’t thought much about it as he’d created it. He’d simply done it on a spur of the moment. But it was lovely now that he really took the time to admire it.

“Yes. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“It’s magic,” Arthur said.

“It looks magic. Where did you get it?”

“Emrys made it when I went to speak to him last night.”

“Oh. Maybe I do have a reason to be jealous then.”

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. He didn’t do it as an act of courtship. I don’t think he even tried very hard when he made it. He was simply showing me his magic.”

“Oh.” There was nothing else Merlin could say.

“It was amazing, Merlin! He says it’s just another muscle that he can flex at his whim. He made it look so much easier than all those other sorcerers who have to learn it,” Arthur said. He spoke quickly, excitedly, and Merlin knew that if he let his gaze wander up to Arthur’s face then he’d see the light sparkling in his eyes. “He did say there are things that are difficult for him, but I think he just doubts himself. I used to avoid using the crossbow because I was better with a sword but I kept practising and became rather decent.”

Merlin sighed and went to sit at the table. He put the flower down next to his tray and tried not appear too downcast.

“Come eat while the food is hot, Arthur, you can tell me over breakfast.”

Arthur came to the table and sat across from Merlin. Merlin listened to Arthur recount their conversation from the previous night, interrupted every so often by pieces of silence while Arthur chewed and tried to remember the exact words.

It was strange hearing himself described, hearing how Arthur had tried in vain to get a peek under his hood when he’d conjured the light. It was strange how Arthur had been afraid of him, had seen his ordinary black cloak and likened it with the shadow of death. It almost tore Merlin apart when Arthur said, “I think he was a good, honest man once, but changed after he started protecting me. He definitely sounds like he’s morally conflicted, but I think he knows what right and wrong is. You don’t think he’ll one day be as corrupt as Morgana, do you?”

Merlin gaped. He blanched, went speechless for a moment before finally pulling himself together.

“I think he’ll be whatever you need him to be, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded as he chewed his bread. “Yes, he seems very loyal. And he said he has people he loves, so I suppose they may help him stay on the right path. Though it is true that sometimes love makes us do the unthinkable. I know I’d do anything for you, and that can be frightening to think about at times. I can’t imagine what he’s capable of.”

Merlin didn’t know what he could say without giving himself away. He kept his mouth shut until he couldn’t help it anymore.

“Is that really what you think of him?” he asked. “That he’s headed down some path of corruption like Morgana?”

Arthur shook his head and swallowed. “No, I only mean to say he has the potential, that we might have to watch him. But the same could be said of anyone. I’m sure that when I know who he is and am more comfortable with him I’ll feel better about the whole thing.”

“What _do_ you think of him then?”

After a moment of contemplation, Arthur said, “He seemed rather sad. Like a powerful, lonely, sad man.” Then he looked at Merlin and grinned. “I suppose that’s why you’re friends with him. You’ve always been the type for helping people no matter what trouble it may land you in.”

Merlin snorted as he got up from the table to get Arthur’s clothes for the day. “That’s certainly true, considering I saved your life and all I got for it was the honour of being your manservant.”

“And do you regret doing so?”

“It would’ve made my life easier if I hadn’t, that’s for sure,” Merlin grumbled and pulled out a tunic. “Nearly ten years later and I’m still taking orders from a royal arse.”

“You still can’t talk to me that way,” Arthur laughed. “I _am_ the king.”

Merlin walked back to the table with the shirt in his hands and leaned over to speak in Arthur’s ear. “Yes, well, we’ll see if the king remembers that when I’ve got my cock in his royal arse.”

Arthur’s head turned to look at Merlin, and his eyes narrowed. Merlin knew that look. It was devious, it meant mischief.

“I’ll show you how much I remember,” Arthur muttered, and no sooner had it left his lips than he was out of his chair and tackling Merlin to the bed.

Laughing, Merlin only put up somewhat of a fight, knowing by now that it was useless and far better to give in. He was stronger than he’d been before, but still not as strong as Arthur. It was when they’d somehow ended up with their feet by the pillows and their heads closest to the door that Merlin yielded. He let Arthur flip him over, straddle his waist, and pin his wrists on either side of his head.

And then there was a knock on the door. Merlin moved to get up, but Arthur kept him held down, smirking at him.

“Enter.”

It was Gwen. She poked her head inside the door and abruptly burst into laughter.

“What did Merlin do now?” she asked.

She was upside down from Merlin’s point of view, but Merlin still feigned a look of horror on his face. “Why d’you assume it’s me that’s done something?”

“Because it’s always you that’s done something,” Arthur said.

“It is not!”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Gwen cut in, “but there’s a village woman here that says she needs to speak to the king immediately.”

Arthur clearly thought the same as Merlin. “A village woman?” he echoed.

“From Willowdale, I think. She was distraught, Arthur,” Gwen said more gently. She softened her expression and that was it.

“Alright.” Arthur climbed off of Merlin and out of the bed. “Give me a moment to get dressed.”

“She’s waiting in the Great Hall for you. Thank you, Arthur.”

She left with a nod at Arthur and a smile at Merlin, closing the door behind her.

“Well, hurry up and dress me, Merlin,” Arthur ordered.

Merlin threw Arthur’s tunic at his face.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

“You said you’re from Willowdale?” Arthur asked the woman.

She nodded as she kept wringing her hands. “Yes, Your Majesty, that’s right.”

“And what’s this matter that’s so urgent?”

“We were attacked, Your Majesty.”

“By who?”

She shook her head. “A monster, Your Majesty. It flew over the village and set fire to the harvest. A few of the homes burnt down as well, mine included.”

“Was anyone killed, is everyone alright?” Arthur asked.

Merlin knew before she answered. She quickly raised her hand to wipe away tears.

“My son died trying to save our house,” she said thickly. “One other died, and five were badly burnt.” Beside her, Gwen wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm in comfort.

After a moment, Arthur asked, “What did it look like?”

“About the size of the horse, I’d say,” she continued, sniffling. “Not very large. It was white, almost grey. We thought it was a cloud at first.”

“A flying white what? What was it shaped like?” Arthur prompted.

Merlin’s heart was already in his throat. He didn’t want to think it, didn’t want to believe it, but it entered his mind all the same.

_Don’t say dragon, don’t say dragon._

“Mine’s not the only village to be attacked, Your Majesty. I didn’t believe it at first, knowing there’s none of them left. But even in the taverns, they all say the same. That it’s a dragon.”

A dragon. Kilgharrah would never do such a thing. Merlin loathed to even entertain the thought, but it left only one option of which he was aware, an option which twisted his insides with guilt and regret.

He’d speak to Kilgharrah that night.

Arthur simply nodded. “I see. You’re certain that’s what they claim?”

“Aye, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Do you have any friends or family you can stay with?”

“My husband and I have come to live with his sister here in the city.”

“Good. If there’s anything you remember that may be important, please come back.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

A guard led her out, and then it was just Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin left in the hall. Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand down his face as he turned to face Merlin.

“Go find Leon, tell him to gather the knights.”

Merlin didn’t have to ask which knights he meant.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

“It’s not the work of just any monster,” Arthur declared at the round table later.

There were maps strewn across it, markers placed, documents laid out. Merlin stood behind Arthur, over his shoulder and as ready to be called upon as always. It was only Arthur’s closest circle present, including him and Gwen.

“The towns it’s visited too likely resemble strategic targets,” Arthur continued. “Our best grain suppliers have been destroyed. It has to be the work of a sorcerer, someone who’s commanding this beast to do its bidding.”

“Morgana,” Merlin said.

For once, Arthur didn’t scold Merlin for speaking out. In fact, he nodded in agreement.

“She knows which food resources are most vital to Camelot. If she destroys them, she starves us, weakens us.”

“How do we stop her?” Leon asked.

“If it is indeed a dragon, we stand a better chance. We can kill it,” Arthur said.

Merlin winced.

“If it’s some sort of...conjured familiar, we’re in trouble. What’s to stop her from summoning another and continuing where she left off?”

“I thought dragons didn’t exist,” Percival said. “At least, not anymore? The one that attacked Camelot was killed.”

“And where the hell would Morgana get one if they did?” Gwaine pointed out.

 _From the dragonlord who brought it to life then lost track of it,_ Merlin thought miserably, frowning at the table. _From me._

“What are we going to do?” Leon asked.

“I’ll send out a search party of three or four men,” Arthur said. “If they find it, their report will decide our next move. Either way, we’ll have to kill it, but I won’t send as many men out to kill a summoned creature that can just be summoned again. After we’ve dealt with the threat, we’ll heighten the search for Morgana.”

He looked to Gwen, beside him. “Guinevere, you’ll be in charge of tallying the losses and doing an inventory of our stores. Instruct anyone you need to help you. If a ration needs to go into effect, we need some idea of the numbers.”

Gwen nodded. “Of course, Arthur.”

“Leon, you’ll decide who’s to be in the search party and which paths they’re to take.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“No doubt the word about the beast will have spread to the other farming villages by now. We can’t afford people to panic and leave their homes to come here. Lancelot, I want you to form another group of men to travel through the kingdom gathering more information and generally reassuring everyone. I can try to guess which town will be attacked next, but there’s no way to know for certain. Just tell them that it’s being taken care of and to remain calm. Do you understand?”

Lancelot nodded. “I do, Your Majesty. How many shall I take?”

“No more than four, including yourself. If anyone sees anything—”

“I’ll send him back to report right away.”

“Perfect. I’ll let you choose the route you take. Get to as many villages as you can, but don’t worry about the outliers. You’ll act as a second search party, but really, the quicker you return, the better.”

Lance nodded again and Arthur dismissed everyone with a wave of his hand. All but Merlin and Gwen left as Arthur stared down at the map of Camelot on the table.

Merlin wanted to act. He wanted to speak to Gaius, he wanted to ask Kilgharrah about Aithusa, he wanted to _move_. But Arthur remained hunched over the table looking at the map and sighing.

Finally, Merlin couldn’t bear to wait another second. He took a step forward and said, “Arthur?”

Arthur’s head snapped up and he turned around, looking surprised to see them still there. “Ah, right, Merlin, let’s go, we need to see Gaius.”

He made for the door and Merlin skipped a few steps to keep up with him. Merlin had nearly caught up when Gwen called him back.

“Oh Merlin, a word, please?”

Merlin spun on his heel. “Yes?”

“I was wondering. What do _you_ think the creature is?” she asked.

“Me?”

“You’ve spent so much time with Gaius, I figured you’re reasonably knowledgeable.”

Merlin shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “The village woman didn’t give much description. She didn’t talk about wingspan or shape, only what others said. It’s hard to come to a conclusion with so little information.”

Gwen came closer, crossing the Hall to where Merlin stood in the doorway. “Yes, but are there any creatures capable of breathing fire that can be summoned by a sorcerer? Something so large and powerful must surely require powerful magic?”

“Merlin!”

It was Arthur’s voice that had interrupted the pause in their conversation, his yell echoing from down the corridor. Merlin cringed at the volume, though that wasn’t anywhere near Arthur’s maximum.

“Not that I know of,” Merlin replied quickly. “But I wouldn’t doubt that Morgana has the magic for it, considering she’s...Sorry, I have to go.”

Gwen stopped him. “Considering she’s what?”

“Nothing, sorry, I misspoke. I really have to—”

“MERLIN!”

“—go.”

Merlin hurried toward Arthur’s impatient voice, but suddenly felt a grip on his arm.

“Merlin,” Gwen insisted. “If it is a dragon, please don’t let Arthur kill it. Persuade him to capture it, perhaps? It shouldn’t...It shouldn’t be killed.”

The request made Merlin forget his earlier hurry. Gwen didn’t want the dragon dead? Was it because she truly believed it to be a majestic creature or because she knew more than she was letting on?

Surely if the case was the latter, Lance would know and tell Merlin? Unless Gwen was keeping secrets of her own…

“ _MERLIN!_ ”

“Yes, of course, Gwen, I’ll talk to him about it. Have to go, bye!”

Merlin wheeled around and ran down the corridor to catch up with Arthur.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

There was something strange going on with Merlin, Arthur was sure. Arthur wasn’t too much more busy with the appearance of this fire-breathing beast than usual, having delegated out the necessary work so he could continue his regular kingly duties. So it wasn’t as though he had less time with which to spend with Merlin. But despite that, he was seeing less of Merlin during the day, and Merlin often returned back to their chambers late at night.

Arthur had remarked on it, of course. The third night Merlin had walked into the room, bleary-eyed and weak-limbed and late for undressing Arthur for bed, Arthur had let loose the usual joking insults on Merlin’s ability as a servant. Merlin had simply tiredly apologised and said he’d had a long day.

“What could have possibly made your day so long, _Mer_ lin?” Arthur had asked. “As the king’s manservant, your first priority should be—believe or not—the king. And I haven’t made you work hard enough to warrant a ‘long day’ excuse in ages.”

“I was helping Gaius,” Merlin had snapped as he threw aside Arthur’s tunic. “People whose villages burnt down came to stay in the city. Some of them are injured. Some need herbs and medicines Gaius is low on. Forgive me for thinking you could undress yourself and get into bed for a few nights while I take care of your city’s citizens!”

It hadn’t been the usual witty retort Arthur had been expecting, and he’d felt terrible. He’d frowned while Merlin took off the rest of his clothing, but didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t until Merlin had slid into bed that Arthur moved closer and left kisses up his neck in apology.

“I was only joking, you know,” he’d whispered. “It was just that I missed you.”

Merlin’s response had been to simply sigh and slide further back into Arthur’s embrace.

But now, three days later, Merlin was still acting odd. Arthur caught glimpses of him sneaking around the corridors before dropping out of sight. He saw him from the castle window hurrying out of the citadel with his leather bag slung over his shoulder. When he _was_ with Arthur, he seemed distracted and disinterested. Arthur didn’t know what was going on and was too worried about a repeat of the previous time to ask.

So he tried to focus on other things. He asked Gwen how the inventory was going and how their storage rooms looked. He sometimes watched Leon or Percival train the incoming knights. He even went into the lower town to visit with the surviving villagers to see how they were getting on.

He worried about Morgana as well. Where was she, and was there any easier way to find her? When was the next time she’d use her beast to strike?

Then, one night, lying in bed awake next to Merlin, Arthur’s thoughts drifted to Emrys. Suddenly, he propped himself up on his side and looked to see if Merlin was asleep yet.

“Merlin,” he whispered.

Merlin groaned. “Hmm.”

“You remember when we were doing all that research on magic?”

“What about it?” Merlin mumbled.

“The books on scrying and divination. D’you remember?”

“Yes, yes, yes, what _about_ it?”

“Do you think Emrys would be able to scry for Morgana?”

Merlin’s eyes flew open, and he twisted his neck to look at Arthur.

“What?” Arthur asked. “Could he?”

Merlin sat up, and after a moment, Arthur had arms around his shoulders, Merlin’s face in his chest.

“Arthur, you’re brilliant!” Merlin exclaimed.

It was the most excited Arthur had seen him in almost a week. He placed a hand on Merlin’s warm back before Merlin pulled away to look up at him again, smiling.

“That’s a yes then?” Arthur prompted.

“Yes.”

“You’ll tell him tomorrow? Or ask him to meet me soon?”

Merlin’s smile faded. He nodded. “Yes. Good night, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed as Merlin rolled over again. At least the moment had been nice while it’d lasted.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

It’d taken hours of practice a day, but Merlin had got the hang of it now. He could successfully teleport to the cavern beneath the dungeons from nearly anywhere in the castle. (He’d tried from the forest south of Camelot but had ended up near a suit of armour, and he didn’t like thinking about what might’ve happened had he landed just a few feet closer.)

It had saddened him at first, keeping Aithusa chained in the same underground prison Kilgharrah had spent twenty years. But as soon as he’d called her to him, he’d quickly realised the danger. He couldn’t very well keep her outside, not when Arthur’s men were searching for her.

That was why he’d had to sneak her in. He’d even had to put a few guards to sleep.

She hadn’t been happy about it when Merlin had secured the chain around her weak ankle, but Merlin had had no choice. He couldn’t let Morgana keep using Aithusa. He wasn’t going to be responsible for more innocent people dying from a dragon attack he could stop.

Besides spending the past few days learning to teleport, and then practising the skill by travelling to and from the cavern, Merlin had been talking to Aithusa as well. He wasn’t sure how large a three-year-old dragon was supposed to be, but he’d thought surely bigger than the creature before him now. She was thin, undernourished for certain, and surprisingly meek. Not under the direction of Morgana, seemingly without purpose, she was shy. She’d screeched, blew smoke out her nose, and cowered whenever Merlin got too close.

“Aithusa,” Merlin said gently, over and over again. She couldn’t talk yet, not like Kilgharrah, but she’d learn. So Merlin kept talking to her, strengthening both the bond between them and her fragile body.

He didn’t know where she found things to eat, probably the same place Kilgharrah had always flown off to, a cave opening higher up, perhaps. But after a few days of going down to visit her, and always being exhausted at the end of the day, the last thing he expected—or needed—was for Arthur to have the sudden need to speak to Emrys again.

The idea of scrying really was brilliant, and Merlin felt stupid for not having thought of it earlier. He hadn’t been particularly successful in scrying in the past, but that had been years ago. He was older and knew more about his power now. And he knew exactly where he needed to go.

The Crystal Cave.

That, however, was half a day’s ride away, in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Either Merlin had to reprioritise his time—of which Arthur would always demand the most—or work on teleporting farther distances. With Arthur wanting another meeting with Emrys soon, Merlin figured he may as well do the latter.

Short distances were easy, even after only a few days. Merlin didn’t even need to speak the incantation anymore. But he didn’t trust himself with travelling so far. Gods knew where he’d end up. Part of him was scared to try.

He was still thinking about where he should practise teleporting to when he rounded a corner and was suddenly faced with Arthur.

“Arthur!”

“Merlin. I see for once you’re not scurrying around or disappearing off somewhere to shirk your duties.”

It was said in the same derisive tone Arthur adopted when trying to appear more high and mighty, but Merlin caught the nearly undetectable glimmer of softness in Arthur’s eye. Merlin remembered the way he’d snapped at Arthur two nights ago when Arthur had made the usual attempt at banter and instantly felt the same wave of remorse he’d felt then.

“Not me, _sire_. Ready to serve as usual.”

Arthur quirked a brow. “The injured villagers are all getting better then, are they?”

“There’s still a few, to be sure, but not so much that Gaius can’t handle it on his own.”

“Where are you off to now then?”

“To do your laundry.”

Yes, that was a suitable explanation. Merlin hadn’t done Arthur’s laundry in far too long, and was honestly surprised Arthur hadn’t remarked on it yet.

“Our room is in the opposite direction,” Arthur pointed out.

Merlin didn’t miss the insinuation. Arthur could have very well said “my room” or “the royal chambers,” but no, he’d dropped a not so subtle hint by bringing their relationship into this. It was a reminder as well as a warning, reinforcing the point that Arthur would be hurt if he found out Merlin was hiding something from him.

“I was going to eat something first,” Merlin explained. “Did you want something?”

Having nearly run into each other, their bodies weren’t too far away. It was a short distance between them, which Arthur easily closed before Merlin could register the movement. He had Merlin pressed against the stone wall, hands on his hips and legs bracketing Merlin’s less sculpted ones.

It took Merlin so completely by surprise that he needed a few seconds to clear his head and make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

Arthur didn’t speak, but his actions said enough. He brought his mouth to Merlin’s but didn’t kiss, didn’t add the last bit of pressure to push it the final step. As his nose glided along the side of Merlin’s, Merlin realised exactly what Arthur was doing.

It was always the slow kisses, in public especially, where they could be found, that made Merlin’s knees weak, took away his ability to think clearly.

“There was something I wanted, actually,” Arthur murmured. Merlin had to attach his own hands to Arthur now, clutch at Arthur’s sleeved shoulders, because if he didn’t grab hold of something, there was every chance he might do something he wasn’t supposed to.

Like push his hips forward and whine needily.

It seemed to be all Arthur was waiting for. As soon as Merlin’s hands gripped Arthur’s shoulders and he only barely managed to stop the stuttering of his hips, Arthur finally kissed him properly, hard enough to tilt his head back against the wall.

Lips...a subtle downward movement of hands...and then _there_ , a slight opening of the mouth to let the tongue slide forward, to curl around and— _yes_ —to swirl around Merlin’s own. Merlin was so lost that he didn’t try to stop the desperate pulling his hands had started in an attempt to bring Arthur closer, to melt their bodies into one. He wanted to wrap his legs around Arthur, to rut into him shamelessly, but Arthur kept him barricaded in the hot prison of his body.

This shouldn’t have been happening in the corridor, not where a member of the court could see, but the fact that it was, that Arthur was being reckless made it so much better. Merlin would gladly be bent over and fucked in front of the entire city if Arthur wished it of him, anything to be seen—finally—as Arthur’s.

Practically all the servants knew it, and Merlin was sure a few nobles were privy to the knowledge as well (they probably even made jokes about it), but it wasn’t acknowledged. Not where the king or queen could hear. Whenever Arthur took a chance like this, being almost openly unfaithful to his wife with his manservant, it had to mean something.

Merlin couldn’t stop the distressed noise he made when Arthur pulled away. He even pleaded with his eyes momentarily, silently asking why Arthur had stopped. Then he noticed the light of the windows behind Arthur, the windows looking down into the courtyard, and he remembered where they were.

“A bath,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been acting odd. I don’t like it. So I want a bath. Tonight. If you haven’t had another long day, that is.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin replied unthinkingly. “Alright. A bath. Yes.”

“Excellent.”

It was at that moment that a serving girl carrying a basket of laundry stepped round the corner. She instantly halted at having come upon Merlin and Arthur in such a position, though Arthur, to his credit, merely stepped back calmly.

“F-Forgive me, Your Majesty, I—”

“It’s fine,” Arthur said. Then, to Merlin, “Do try to be more productive today, Merlin. If the villagers are as you say they are, then certainly you can return to the things you’re meant to be doing.” He started off toward his room, making sure to add, “I’ll be dining in my chambers tonight, by the way.”

Merlin sighed. Years before, he would’ve kept his eyes lowered as the serving girl walked past, eyeing him in amusement. Now, he stared back at her, daring her to lift the corners of her mouth just a little more into a full smirk.

They never did. Not anymore. Though if they did, Merlin liked to think he was past the point of it bothering him.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

One moment Merlin was sulking with Aithusa, petting the top of her head in his lap, and the next, after whispering a gentle goodbye, he was sitting on his old bed in the back room of Gaius’s chambers. When he got up, opened the door, and walked down the steps, Gaius jumped at the sight of him.

“Merlin, must you keep doing that?”

Merlin didn’t reply, just sat at the table, put his head on his arms, and continued his sulking.

Behind him, Gaius sighed. He walked around the table to sit across from Merlin, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Life is hard, Gaius,” Merlin mumbled at last. “Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m doing, and yet so much depends on me. I’ve made all these decisions and now I’m stuck with them.”

It would be so easy to just tell Arthur. Two words: I’m Emrys. It only got more difficult to keep the truth locked up inside with each passing day. And now, with another bath to be had that night, it was only going to make things worse.

Gaius’s hand settled on top of Merlin’s head. “I know, my dear boy. But you know I can’t do anything to make it easier.”

Merlin sighed. “I know. Just need to complain sometimes, I suppose.”

“The ban will be lifted soon, Merlin. All in good time.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur was already in his chambers, sitting at his desk going over documents when Merlin brought the tub in for the bath. Merlin had had a few of the chambermaids go to get water, and usually he’d heat it himself with magic, but now he’d have to do it the normal way, slow and over the fire.

“The water will take a while,” Merlin said after setting the tub on the floor. Arthur looked up from his work. “Shall I fetch dinner while we wait?”

“Alright.”

Merlin turned back toward the door, still huffing and out of breath from carrying the tub. He took off his jacket and draped it on the back of a chair on his way out.

When he returned, a tray balanced in each hand, the chambermaids were just leaving. Merlin set their meals down on the table then walked back to the door to lock it. Arthur had got up and went to the table by the time Merlin turned back around.

“Has the search party returned yet?” Merlin asked as they began eating. He wondered when they would give up, though he supposed having them wander around was a good precaution in case Morgana decided to _actually_ summon a beast.

“No. It’ll be a few days yet. Though there’re no more reports of towns being attacked, so that’s an improvement.”

Merlin hummed in agreement and kept eating. To take his mind off the impending bath, he focused on the things he needed to get done the next day: the usual chores for Arthur, increasing the distance accuracy of his teleportation spell so he could travel to the Crystal Cave, visiting Aithusa...

He wanted to work on Aithusa’s strength again tomorrow. He’d start her out with something easy, like having her hold him in her claws while she hovered in the air for a while. Maybe he’d try to climb on her back and see if she could fly with him riding her. He’d need to find heavier and heavier things for her to lift in future, but once Arthur called off the search party he could think about letting her free again. With the strict instruction not to return to Morgana, of course.

For teleporting, he’d likely aim for the castle wall. Or no, best not, as he might end up on top and not only alarm the guardsmen but very likely fall off.

The edge of the forest, perhaps? Yes, the same spot where he’d made a unicorn-shaped cloud years before.

“Have you spoken to him yet?” Arthur asked suddenly, yanking Merlin out of his thoughts. “To Emrys? About scrying for Morgana?”

“Oh, yes. He’ll meet with you again after he’s learnt something.”

“And I suppose you’ll tell me when he’s learnt something?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Hopefully then you’ll be less likely to forget and run around the castle half naked.”

“Right.”

“Which was absolutely ridiculous, you know.”

“I wasn’t screaming for you or anything. And I hadn’t been out long, really.”

“Anyone could’ve seen!”

“It was late, most people were sleeping,” Merlin countered. “Either way, they’d probably know exactly why I was half naked,” he muttered under his breath.

“All I’m saying is that it was reckless.”

“Like you haven’t done reckless things when you were worried about me.”

“That’s—”

“It doesn’t matter, it won’t happen again. I’m sorry, alright?”

Arthur sighed. “Yes, alright. I suppose it wasn’t any worse than—”

“What you did today in the corridor.”

“That.”

“The reason for which was?”

Arthur looked up from his food with a smirk. “To get you to listen to me.”

“I always listen to you!”

“But you don’t always do what you’re told, do you?”

“ _Everything_ I do is for you, Arthur! When’s the last time I did a single thing for myself?”

“Well, there was a certain night that Leon had to drag you to bed after an evening at the tavern.”

Merlin bit back his retort. He didn’t want to get into a genuine row with Arthur, and he couldn’t tell Arthur the real reason he’d gone to the tavern in the first place. Eyeing the water heating above the fire, Merlin had to remind himself that tonight wasn’t about arguing. It was about satisfying Arthur’s need for attention now so he could continue to get more important work done later.

Without replying, Merlin went at his food again. Only a few moments later, he felt his shin kicked (albeit lightly) under the table.

Arthur was staring at him, not smirking, not smiling, just blankly staring, with the slightest sign of an indentation in his brow. He didn’t have to speak for Merlin to understand him.

Merlin knew he was being sensitive lately, taking the usual jokes too seriously, but sometimes they didn’t feel like jokes. Sometimes it honestly felt like he was being underappreciated. And with everything he had to keep track of, all the emotional stress, he was nearing the end of his rope.

“Sorry,” Merlin murmured, lowering his eyes again.

Then he pushed his tray away. He’d eaten most of his food and now suddenly wasn’t hungry.

Arthur stood up and walked to the fire, taking the water away to pour in the tub. When Merlin moved to stand and do it for him, Arthur put up a hand, stopping him.

“I’ll do it.”

Merlin sank back into his chair slowly. “Okay.”

When Arthur finished, he took Merlin’s hand and guided him over before beginning to carefully remove his clothing.

“Not a word,” he said in Merlin’s ear, anticipating Merlin’s remark.

Merlin chuckled as he raised his arms for Arthur to lift his tunic. “Of course not, _sire_.”

He didn’t speak again until they were both in the water, back to front as they always were. Merlin thought the heating spell in his head and raised the temperature just a bit. He knew Arthur wouldn’t notice because he never did.

Arthur’s hands were as gentle as they ever were in the bath. They moved over Merlin’s skin lovingly, then abruptly stopped when Arthur said, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Merlin’s heart skipped nervously but he was careful not to let it show. He turned to the side, propping his legs over Arthur’s right knee and shook his head to indicate nothing was wrong before leaning it on Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur smelled of soap. He smelled of his own unique Arthur smell that Merlin would know anywhere. He smelled of other things too, like strength and royalty and honour. He smelled of his princely playfulness and his kingly kindness. Merlin pressed his nose to Arthur’s wet skin and imagined he could smell all of it.

He wondered what he smelled like to Arthur. Like a boy from a small country village, probably. Like a servant.

But was there a more powerful smell if he inhaled deeply? Was there a scent Arthur couldn’t quite put his finger on, something that smelled of earth and sky and sea? Something like magic?

“Merlin?” There was a splash of water as Arthur raised his hand to Merlin’s face and made him look up. “I’m not kidding, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, Arthur.”

Merlin tried to smile but Arthur’s expression told him it clearly failed. Arthur only hitched a brow and dipped his wet finger into Merlin’s ear.

“Tell me,” Arthur insisted.

Merlin rubbed at his ear, glaring up at Arthur. “Prat,” he mumbled.

“ _Merlin_.”

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

Arthur barked out a laugh. “What on earth could you have on your mind?”

Merlin wasn’t sure what the tone he detected in Arthur’s voice was, not at first. He’d heard it before, but he couldn’t put it a name to it.

Then, suddenly, Merlin could—disbelief, doubt, scepticism, the same tone Arthur had used after Merlin had said he could take him apart with less than one blow when they’d first met. Merlin was just a servant, after all. What worry could he possibly have that was so troubling, how could he ever have _so many_ things on his mind?

His face must have shown the emotions running through his head, because then Arthur stroked his arm, leaving a trail of soap.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know you worry about the kingdom just as much as I do.”

“It’s not just the kingdom!” Merlin exclaimed angrily. “It’s—It’s—you and Morgana and Emrys and the food supply and the knights you’ve sent out and the beast and—and maybe you don’t have any parents left alive but I’ve still got a mother to worry about, you know.”

Arthur’s countenance looked crushed. “Merlin…”

“I’m sorry.” Merlin put his face back into Arthur’s neck, only somewhat to show the sincerity of his apology. He also did it because he was ashamed. “I don’t want to talk. Just...sit.”

“Alright,” Arthur said, caressing Merlin’s back. “We’ll sit then. But you’re going to tell me eventually.”

Merlin closed his eyes. He put a palm to Arthur’s chest, feeling his heart beat. He breathed him in. He focused on the pulse of Arthur’s blood and didn’t think about anything.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

“Okay,” Merlin breathed once more, “I’m going to do it.”

“You’ve said that already,” Gaius said, unimpressed.

Merlin bounced on the balls of his feet a few times, rolling his shoulders as though what he was about to do required a strenuous amount of physical effort. Mostly he was just stalling.

“I know, I know. I just need a moment to mentally prepare.”

“This is absurd, Merlin, you’re simply doubting your ability for no reason,” Gaius admonished. “Your magic would never put you in harm’s way, not when it’s so instinctively attuned to you. You’ll be fine, wherever you end up.”

Put like that, Merlin felt a lot better. It was true he’d teleported to the forest and back easily enough, but he was still going to verbally say the incantation, at least so he’d have more control over the spell.

“Okay. I’m going to do it.”

“So you’ve said.”

He saw the Crystal Cave in his mind’s eye, with its glittering crystals embedded in the rock and the dancing lights coming in from above. And then he did it.

“ _Astýre mé þanonweard_.”

It happened slower than usual. Teleporting between different areas of the castle (and even to the edge of the forest) was like leaving one room and entering another—Merlin’s surroundings changed in the blink of an eye. Travelling farther distances, however, was a bit more prolonged. Gaius’s workroom slowly faded, the image of the dimly lit physician's chambers melting into that of the twinkling cave, until finally Gaius had disappeared and Merlin was alone, standing in the middle of the birthplace of magic.

It was just as he remembered, beautiful and full of power. His magic liked being here, and Merlin felt as though he was a length of fabric stitched back into a larger piece of clothing, as though his whole being had been woven seamlessly back into its original flow of magic. The entire place resonated with power, and Merlin didn’t feel like Merlin here. He felt like Emrys.

He had a mission, though. He wasn’t here to bask in the warm feeling this place gave him, or marvel at the sparkling of the lights. He walked over to the largest cluster of crystals in sight, and tried to channel his energy into it, staring deeply at the flat, luminescent surface.

Surprisingly, he didn’t have to gaze into it long before an image faded into view.

Merlin knew right away it was an event in the past based on the decorations he saw aligning the walls of the Great Hall, and the elaborate dress of all those gathered. Merlin hadn’t been in the Hall himself, being one of the few guests not in attendance, but he’d helped enough servants put up those same decorations to know what day it was.

Arthur and Gwen’s wedding day.

Knights stood in glistening silver armour and Camelot red, lords and ladies from all over the kingdom smiled in their finest clothing, and even the lowest of servants had adorned their formal garb. On Arthur’s head, the newly polished (courtesy of Merlin) King’s crown, and on Guinevere’s, the newly placed Queen’s. They leaned in toward each other, each holding the other’s hand and knowing they were meant to kiss now, and each thinking of the other person in front of which they’d rather be standing.

Arthur was close enough to see the slight downward turn of Gwen’s lips and Gwen was close enough to see the stubble above Arthur’s.

Closer. Closer.

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t wanted to see it then and he didn’t want to see it now. Desperate not to have to bear witness to anything else that might upset him, Merlin focused his magic and demanded of the crystal, “Show me Morgana.”

He didn’t expect it to work, and at first, seeing deep footprints on snow-covered ground, he thought it hadn’t. But past the footprints, into a tall, stone fortress, through dark, grimy corridors with hulking figures, and into an illuminated room, sat Morgana.

She was at a table, her arms resting in front of her. She had dark shadows under her eyes, making Merlin wonder how well she’d been sleeping. Was she worried about the loss of her wrongly-acquired dragon? It had been just over a week since Merlin had bade Aithusa come to him. What had Morgana been thinking of since Aithusa hadn’t returned?

There was another figure in the room, sitting at the other end of the table, and just as darkly clad as Morgana. A bit less pale, much more rugged and weary-looking, as though used to living in harsh conditions, but at the same time, of a more relaxed posture. His hair was a bit unkempt, but the closer Merlin looked at his face, the more it seemed to be because of how young he was. Free-spirited and full of ambition.

It was the man’s eyes that bothered Merlin most. They seemed too wise for the young face, seemed to see more than they let on. Merlin could spot it as easily as picking Arthur out in a crowd, because like the man, Merlin too hid immense power under an innocent face.

Merlin’s worst nightmare had come to fruition, then. Mordred working with Morgana.

Suddenly, Morgana was standing. “Have you found her?”

A pair of men had come into the room, each looking grim. One darted a look at Mordred, then started to stutter, “We’re sorry, Morga—”

“Your Majesty,” Mordred corrected. His cool voice sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine. “That’s the rightful Queen of Camelot you’re addressing.”

The man started again. “We’re sorry, Your Majesty. We found no trace of the dragon from here to the—”

“GO BACK OUT AND FIND HER!” Morgana screeched. “And don’t return until you have!”

The men exited quickly. As soon as they were gone, Mordred calmly stood and walked round the table to where Morgana had sank back into her chair, looking close to tears. As Mordred’s hand stroked her hair, he said, “I too have lost those I loved due to Arthur’s selfish actions. Sometimes all we can do is move past it. But we must never forget. It’s the memory of the injustice that gives us the strength to go on.”

The image faded and the crystal showed no more.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was so shaken up that he hadn’t thought much about the return trip home. He hadn’t the mind to worry about teleporting on top of the castle walls or accidentally impaling himself on the end of a sword. He didn’t even remember to say the incantation aloud so that he’d have more control.

He simply closed his eyes, saw Arthur’s face, and wished to be with him.

When he opened his eyes, he was in their room.

For a moment, Merlin couldn’t breathe. He turned his head this way and that, checking to make sure nobody else was there, that nobody had seen him appear out of thin air. That’s when he heard quick gasps coming from behind the bed-curtain, which he and Arthur never drew, not unless…

Merlin walked along the edge until he found the opening and pulled it back. Just as he’d thought, there was Arthur, lying on the bed in just his white tunic, his legs splayed out and his eyes shut as he fucked up into his hand. He yelped when Merlin suddenly invaded his privacy.

“Merlin!”

Merlin only regarded Arthur’s position for a second before leaping onto the bed and throwing his arms around Arthur’s neck. Flashes of what he’d seen in the crystal still haunted him—Mordred’s piercing eyes, Morgana’s angry demand—and he wanted nothing more than to feel for himself that Arthur was still here with him, still safe for the moment.

“Uh, Merlin?”

Merlin didn’t pull away, but he did give a hum in reply. “Hmm?”

“I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Merlin looked down to where Arthur still had a hand loosely wrapped around the base of his cock and suddenly realised what he’d done.

“You were...um…”

“Yes, Merlin, very observant of you. What’s gotten into you? I didn’t hear you come in, and I’m sure I locked the door.”

“Given how into it you seemed to be, it’s no surprise you didn’t hear me.”

“What have I said about you trying to be funny?”

Merlin unwound his arms from around Arthur’s neck. He took Arthur’s cock in his hand, feeling the rigid warmth of it, the throbbing weight, and slowly slid his grip up and back down.

Arthur let out a shaky exhale. “M-Merlin.”

He wanted to take care of Arthur. Visiting the cave, sensing the looming danger...Merlin felt like he’d lost sight of what really mattered. Securing their future was important, shaping Aithusa into the brilliant creature she was meant to be was crucial, but this was important too, these quiet moments where it was just them. Arthur needed him, and if Merlin had thought that one night sitting in the bath together was going to be enough to fix things, he’d been a fool.

That, on top of the fact that he (and his magic) wanted now more than ever to be close to Arthur, _needed_ to be close to Arthur.

“It seems I’ve been a terrible servant, sire,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s ear, licking the curved edge. “Inattentive to your needs.”

He moulded his body to Arthur’s side, pressing flush against him and rolling his hips to get his own cock interested. He quickened the pace of his strokes and rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip occasionally, never failing to make Arthur gasp.

“Nothing new there then,” Arthur managed between breaths.

Merlin mouthed kisses down the side of Arthur’s throat, shuffling further down the bed at the same time. “Fuck, you’re so hard.”

Merlin was at Arthur’s cock now, his lips teasingly close to the head, close enough to let Arthur feel the heat of his breath. Arthur suddenly had a hand on Merlin’s scarf, pulling at it impatiently.

“Clothes. Off. Want to see you.”

“Already unable to speak in complete sentences, eh?”

“Oh, shut up and undress.”

Merlin untied the knot of his neckerchief, undid his belt, unlaced his boots with magic while Arthur pulled his shirt over his head, kicked them off, then slid out of his trousers. Arthur pulled him up, positioning him straddled on top so he could look his fill.

“Gods,” he said as he kneaded Merlin’s arse, eyes fixed solely on the cock in front of him. “Can’t decide which I want more, you in me or me in you.”

Merlin grinned down at him and rolled his hips, brushing their cocks together. “I suppose it depends on how long you want it to last. You’ve got a head start on me, so if you—”

“Right then, you in me.”

Arthur slid Merlin down his thighs and off, then reached behind the pillows for the oil. Kneeling, Merlin took it from him and motioned for Arthur to turn over.

Arthur’s head start had made sweat gather in the cleft of his arse, enough to let Merlin’s finger slide easily between the pert cheeks. It’d been mostly the need for closeness driving Merlin before, but now it was something more physical. His lust only grew when he nudged the bud of Arthur’s hole and found it as naturally yielding as it was slick.

Arthur moaned and raised his hips higher, so Merlin gifted him a little push, burrowing his finger deeper.

“I haven’t even put oil on my hand yet,” Merlin said, awed. “You’re so...hot.”

“ _Merlin_.”

Merlin stopped teasing, mostly because Arthur was quivering, perched on his hands and knees. He put a bit of the oil on his fingers and lubed Arthur properly, then put a bit more on himself as he shuffled forward.

Merlin was pushing inside when Arthur moaned again. His hands curled into fists on the bed and he took slow, even breaths as Merlin went deeper. Merlin tried to calm his breathing as well, but the intensity of the moment was coming back to him, the reason for why he’d interrupted Arthur’s wank in the first place.

The broad shoulders, muscled back, and round arse before him belonged to the king of Camelot— _his_ king, his everything. And now Mordred was working with Morgana, threatening to take Arthur away from him.

“Ah!” Arthur inhaled sharply.

“What?”

“What d’you mean ‘what?’ You just shoved the rest of the way in with no warning and it fucking hurt, you idiot.”

“Oh. Sorry. Are you okay?”

Arthur slid off Merlin’s cock and flipped over onto his back by way of answer, spreading his legs and nodding. “Go on.”

After sliding in once more, Merlin pulled out and shoved in again. Arthur’s breath hitched a little, but he didn’t complain. It was permission enough for Merlin to keep going, to keep thrusting like he just couldn’t get deep enough, expelling a huff of air from Arthur with each push forward.

“Oh—oh gods—oh fuck—”

Merlin had to do it this way. It wasn’t quite anger simmering under his skin, but more of a primal need, heightened with the return of memories from the vision. Grunting seemed to help get out some of the pent up emotion, and he snapped his hips forward hard as each successive thought ran through his head:

Morgana had stolen _his_ dragon.

Morgana thought it was her that belonged on the throne.

She was working with Mordred, probably feeding him lies to bend him to her will.

She was going to tear down everything Arthur had worked so hard to build.

And on top of that, Merlin had to sneak around, lying to Arthur, unable to tell him any of this because of some fucking idiot druid who had to tell Arthur about Emrys.

It wasn’t. Fucking. Fair.

All Merlin wanted to do was see Arthur fulfill what the Great Dragon prophesied.

All he wanted was to have a prospering kingdom with magic, Arthur at his side.

All he wanted was to run Morgana through with a sword and hear her take her final breaths so he could stop worrying all the time.

He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be happy.

Was that too much to fucking ask for?

Merlin didn’t realise how quickly he’d started going until he was sweating and out of breath. But even then he didn’t stop or slow down. He pushed himself to his limit, grunting as he hoisted Arthur further up onto his lap so he could grab his thighs and fuck deeper into him.

It was rare for Arthur to look so...unkingly, splayed out on his back and rocking back and forth on Merlin’s cock, his moans gone high and whiny. But Merlin was at the point where nothing else in the world mattered besides finishing, the point where heat was coiling in his groin and would shoot out of his cock at any second.

He could feel his magic getting ready for it, too. It was pumping through his veins, tingling in the tips of his fingers. He felt like his sweat was glimmering with it, making him glow. _It_ had no idea what was going on in his head at the moment, only that its king was involved and that they were connected. His magic was going wild with pleasure, and was trying to reach out and touch Arthur at every lapse of Merlin’s concentration.

“M-Merlin.”

Finally slowing his rhythm, Merlin looked up. Arthur was staring at him oddly, his face a mix of bliss and confusion. That’s when Merlin noticed he’d barely been paying attention to Arthur at all, save for the moaning and whining. Though Arthur had a hand on his cock, so he hadn’t been neglecting himself. In fact his balls were drawn up tighter than the last time Merlin had looked.

“Are you—”

“Yeah, I’m close,” Arthur said breathily. “I’m—Merlin, I’m—”

A thumb over the head of Arthur’s cock, one good roll of Merlin’s hips, and Arthur was coming, the mess splattering his chest and stomach as he arched off of bed. Another two or three thrusts and it was enough to finish Merlin as well, his dick throbbing as he squeezed his eyes shut and shot his release inside.

He’d needed this. Gods, he’d needed this. He felt so much better now.

“Merlin, that was…”

Merlin exhaled and slid out, then sat back on his calves. He waited for Arthur to finish his sentence, but when Arthur didn’t, he decided to get up and clean himself off.

Arthur was stepping out from behind the drawn bed-curtain when he spoke again, crossing the room to where Merlin stood by the washbasin. “Merlin?”

Merlin tossed the towel back over the edge. “Yes?”

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong now.”

Merlin tried laughing, but inside, his stomach had plummeted, and he mourned the way his good mood had come and gone so quickly. “Why in the world would you think something’s wrong now of all times?”

He could see Arthur’s jaw clench, and knew he hadn’t gotten away with the half-lie. Arthur’s gaze turned cold as he stared at Merlin. “Because you don’t fuck me that way, Merlin. Not in all the years we’ve been together have you ever once fucked me like _that_.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Arthur waved his hand around, gesturing aimlessly at the bed behind him, “some feral animal with a point to prove or something. That’s not like you at all.”

Merlin frowned. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re...you’re you.”

Of course. More scepticism. Merlin supposed he should’ve been used to it by now.

“Does the possibility of me having even the slightest bit of power really bother you so much?” Merlin asked.

“What? No! Merlin that’s not what I’m saying.”

“If you have a problem with the way I did it, then you should’ve fucked me instead.”

“Merlin, would you _shut up_? I don’t have a problem with it,” Arthur explained in exasperation. “I _liked_ it. Sure, it was frightening at first because I’ve only seen you look that angry against enemies, but then it was...not.”

“Okay. So then what’s the problem?”

“The problem, _Mer_ lin, is that you never do it like that. So when it’s different, I know something’s not—”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Merlin said. He walked past Arthur back to the bed and searched for his clothes. “Even if there was something wrong, that doesn’t mean I’m obligated to talk to you about it.”

“Merlin, that’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fair,” Merlin muttered, low enough for Arthur not to hear.

“I’ve told you everything,” Arthur continued as Merlin dressed. “We’ve...we’ve always discussed everything. Maybe not outright but—”

“Not everything, Arthur. Camelot. Strategy. Things that matter.”

“How you feel doesn’t matter?”

Merlin almost laughed. Did Arthur even hear himself? Wanting to talk about feelings?

“No, Arthur, it doesn’t,” Merlin said as he tied the laces of his trousers. “It never has. It can’t.”

Merlin grabbed his boots and made for the door. He didn’t take the time to put them on because he couldn’t be here a second longer. He’d done what he had to do and spent time with Arthur but now he felt...he felt weighed down by secrets and lies and didn’t want to dig himself deeper by having this conversation. His heart was already racing, his nerves on edge, his hands shaking, and any second now he felt like he was going to finally break down. He couldn’t be near Arthur when that happened.

A hand on his wrist stopped him before he could open the door.

“It matters to me, Merlin.”

The sincerity in Arthur’s eyes stabbed at Merlin’s heart. It brought the beginning of tears to his eyes and he had to look down as he swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“I have to go, Arthur. I have...I have things to do.”

Merlin pulled free of Arthur’s grasp and was out the door before Arthur could say anything else.

He knew Arthur wouldn’t follow him, not in his current undressed state, so after making sure no one else was in the corridor to see, Merlin teleported to the one place he _could_ break down. He teleported to the cavern beneath the dungeons.

He was falling to his knees, letting the sobs free before he’d even fully materialised. Aithusa wasn’t on the rock, and that somehow made everything worse. Even his kin knew he wasn’t worth comforting.

He knelt on the hard, rocky surface, chest laying on his thighs as he let everything pour out of him. At first it seemed like a terrible idea to have come here, where his cries echoed back at him, but eventually he reached a point where he didn’t care. Down here, he could scream as loud as he needed to, pound the stone beneath him until his fists were bloody.

It was just…

Too many years.

Too many tiny betrayals and too many big ones.

Too many lies told while smiling and secret wounds hidden in the midst of love-making.

It was too much.

Merlin had managed to reduce himself to sniffles when he felt a solid warmth touch the top of his head. He wiped his eyes and looked up, over Aithusa’s rounded grey nose into her sparkling blue eyes.

There was something in them he hadn’t seen before. He’d seen fondness—sometimes she’d give him a quick look of fond amusement after he’d told her a funny anecdote from his earlier times with Arthur. But this look was different, a deeper fondness somehow. Compassionate, kind, caring.

“Aithusa,” Merlin croaked, not knowing what else to say. “Aithusa.”

Aithusa nosed the side of his face, making a rumbling noise in her throat, not too far from a purr. Then she stepped back, the chain clinking with each little movement, before settling down on her side, a wing raised as if in invitation.

After a puzzled moment, Merlin realised it _was_ an invitation. He crawled forward, the rock hurting his knees and bloodied palms, then curled up against her flank. As soon as he did so, she lowered her wing, covering him with it.

She was still small, not nearly as large as Merlin thought she should be, but big enough for him to lean against and warm enough for comfort. Merlin pressed his cheek to her side, idly running a hand over the scales of varying grey, white, and pink.

“You are strong, Emrys.”

Merlin thought he’d imagined the melodic, high-pitched voice at first, because there was no one else present who could’ve spoken, but then he looked up. Aithusa was staring down at him, the kind look still in her eyes.

“Aithusa?”

She said again, “You are strong, Emrys.”

But she hadn’t spoken, not like Kilgharrah had when Merlin had come to him countless times. Instead it was how Merlin had first heard Kilgharrah’s voice, calling to him, and how the druids communicated. She’d spoken to his mind, with magic.

Merlin shook his head. “I’m not. When it comes to Arthur, I—”

“I will meet him.”

Merlin blinked. “What?”

“I will meet him. Soon.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Gwen looked appropriately shocked when she opened the door. Arthur didn’t blame her. He rarely came to her chambers, and honestly he probably should’ve done it more often, at least for the sake of appearances.

“Arthur? What’s happened?”

Arthur entered, shutting the door behind him. “I didn’t know who else I could speak to,” he began. “Gaius is like a father to him, and wouldn’t ever say—”

“Is this about Merlin?” she asked.

Arthur sighed and sat in the chair by the fire. “Yes.”

Gwen sat opposite him, her face as concerned as it always was when matters close to the heart troubled her. “Is something wrong? Have you had an argument?”

“No—Yes—I don’t know.” Arthur sighed again, rubbing his temples. “He’s hiding something.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I _know_. Something doesn’t feel right. And...after our _minor_ argument yesterday I opened the door to go after him and his boots were just lying there in the corridor. He went somewhere without his _boots_ on. Doesn’t that sound a bit strange?”

Gwen frowned and nodded. “It does.”

“He won’t tell me what’s wrong, but something is clearly bothering him.”

Arthur didn’t say that even a bath hadn’t helped. A bath _always_ helped, always left Merlin in a better mood. This last time it had been almost the opposite.

“I see,” Gwen said.

“So I was hoping you could...perhaps...talk to him?”

Gwen’s brows shot up. “Me?”

“You two were close friends, weren’t you? Before you became Queen? If he won’t talk to you, maybe Lancelot—”

“Arthur. Listen to me. I think you’re overreacting.”

Arthur went through a range of emotions at what felt like all at once—confusion, disbelief, anger. How could Gwen think that? Surely she could imagine how it would feel to see something was wrong with the person she loved but they kept pushing away all attempts to help. It was partially the reason why Arthur had come to her.

“Merlin’s always been secretive,” she went on before Arthur could work himself up. “Whatever it is, it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

Arthur shook his head. “Merlin’s never been distant like this before. It’s like he doesn’t even want to be near me, like it hurts him. He’s hardly ever with me anymore. I’m the king of Camelot and yet I suddenly have more time than _him_? Highly unlikely.”

“Arthur, Merlin loves you. You know he’d do anything for you. If something serious was going on, he’d tell you. But you know he’s the type to suffer silently. If he thinks whatever he’s going through will pass, he won’t want to say a word to worry you. And before you say that’s stupid, let me tell you that it’s because he loves you so much that he does it.”

“That’s still stupid!”

“It will pass,” Gwen repeated.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was pale when he brought dinner back to their room that night.

“Are you alright, Merlin? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Certainly hope not,” Merlin muttered. Arthur had a feeling he wasn’t meant to hear, but before he could think on the statement too long, Merlin continued. “Emrys’ll meet you again tonight.”

Arthur’s pulse quickened. “He’s scryed for Morgana then? Seen something?”

Merlin nodded as he sat down. “Same location and time as before.”

That meant two candlemarks after Merlin served him dinner. Arthur couldn’t wait.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Emrys was much more punctual this time. Though like before, Arthur didn’t hear the man’s approaching footsteps. He was just suddenly there, sitting beside Arthur with his back to the tree as he had before.

“You’ve seen Morgana?” Arthur asked, jumping right into it.

Emrys’s voice was as magically altered as last time, multiple tones speaking at once. “Yes. She’s in the Northern Plains, I believe. I saw her somewhere with snow.”

“What the hell’s she doing there?”

“I didn’t see the first time I scryed. I only saw a short vision of...I’ll come back to that. What I saw today in the second vision is more important.”

“What was it?”

“She’s training sorcerers.”

“Training sorcerers?!”

“Yes. She’s already had the Saxons under her command for a while. Now she has her army of sorcerers. But at least she no longer has my dragon.”

“ _Your_ dragon? So it _was_ a dragon attacking the villages?”

“Yes.” Emrys practically growled it, and his voices remained tense as he continued. “It was I who called her out of her egg, I who gave her her name. I don’t know how Morgana got hold of her, but I’m keeping her close to me now.”

It was impossible. Only dragonlords could do what Emrys was claiming to have done, and the last of them had died years ago.

“But how?” Arthur asked. “How can you control a dragon? That’s something only dragonlords can do, and there’s no more left.”

Emrys’s hood swayed as he shook his head. “When a dragonlord dies, they pass their power on to their children. The last one, Balinor...he was—”

“Your father.”

“Yes.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say. It was too late after the man’s death to apologise, and wouldn’t change anything, but still Arthur felt he should. It was his city Balinor had been coming to save, after all. If Balinor hadn’t left his cave, Emrys might still have his father.

Eventually, Arthur decided on another question. “How was Morgana able to control the dragon then?”

“Her name is Aithusa,” Emrys replied. “The dragon, that is.”

“How was Morgana able to control Aithusa without a dragonlord at her command?”

“She must have found her when she was very young. They seem to have formed a bond. Aithusa was quite difficult to handle at first because of it, though of course she has to obey what a dragonlord says.”

“Where is she now? I assume you know I’ve sent my knights out searching for her and have been keeping her safe.”

“She’s here, actually. She wanted to meet you.”

Arthur was shocked. “She’s here? And she can talk?”

“Not quite yet. She can only communicate through magic, but I’m working on it.”

A rustle of leaves alerted Arthur to movement behind their tree, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to immediately draw his sword. A moment later, a ball of light formed in the palm of Emrys’s hand, floating up above to illuminate a circle around them.

Then Arthur saw it—her. The dragon.

She came from around the tree, the front of her head coming into view behind Emrys’s hood before the rest of her body slid into the light. As she walked forward, Arthur scrambled to his feet. Not from fear—or at least, he didn’t think the racing of his heart suggested fear—but from the desire to see her properly.

How could such a magnificent and small creature be responsible for such tragedy?

She seemed to glow in the light. She seemed soft and harmless, the only visible danger being her long claws sunk into the earth. Her eyes stared at Arthur almost unblinkingly, and Arthur had the irrational urge to kneel before her, as though he was unworthy.

“Will you stop the search for her?” Emrys’s voice cut through Arthur’s stunned silence.

“I—Yes, of course.”

“She’s eager to be free again.”

As though to emphasise the point, Aithusa stood on her back legs and spread her wings, extending them and buffeting the air a few times. She could make herself seem much larger than she appeared to be. The wingspan drastically increased her size, and Arthur could see why she’d be mistaken for a cloud.

“I’ll see to it tomorrow,” Arthur promised.

“There’s something else,” Emrys began. Arthur reluctantly turned away from Aithusa to look at where Emrys still sat against the tree, hood shadowing his face. “The first vision I saw.”

“Yes?”

“Morgana is searching for Aithusa. She’s distraught over the loss.”

“Because of the bond you said they formed?”

“It would appear so. I doubt she’s above killing the men who fail to bring her back, but she’ll have to give up eventually. She’s working with someone who has powerful magic—”

“Powerful even for you?”

Emrys hesitated. “Alone...I’m not sure. It’s possible. But together, they’re certain to be difficult. I’m going to have to separate them first.”

Arthur gaped. “Separate them? What are you—You speak as though you already have a plan.”

“I might.”

“Then you must tell me immediately.”

Emrys got to his feet at last. “Alright. I’m going to find them. I’m going to kill one. Then I’m going to kill the other.”

Arthur shook his head. “No. You won’t.”

He didn’t like it at all. It was too close to what he’d feared, Emrys being a merciless killer instead of a kind protector. For one man to go alone, to just kill in cold blood…

It was different than fighting on a battlefield. There was no honour in entering Morgana’s home and finishing her off. It wasn’t the way things were meant to go, it wasn’t the way Arthur would do it. If people believed this was the way he dealt with his enemies, sneaking into their homes to slay them in their sleep, he might never recover his honour.

“What do you know about scrying, Arthur?” Emrys asked.

Arthur racked his brain for the knowledge. “It depends on the method, doesn’t it? What you see?”

“It can. I used a crystal. Crystals can be tricky. Sometimes they don’t show what you want to see. Sometimes you look and a vision of the past will appear instead of the person you’re searching for. And sometimes, the future.”

“You saw the future?”

“I saw you die.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold.

Emrys sighed and walked to where Aithusa was perched on the ground. A pale hand emerged from the folds of darkness and stroked her head, causing a purring sound from deep in her throat.

“You won’t kill your sister, Arthur,” Emrys continued. “I know your weakness, and it’s that you’re too honourable. You’d give her a chance to fight you fairly, but Morgana doesn’t fight fairly. Allow me to do what you can’t. Let me kill her for you.”

“No! It’s not your responsi—”

“My responsibility is to protect you!” Arthur flinched from the volume and ferocity of the voices. “There are people depending on us, people to whom I’ve made promises, and if you want to unite the kingdoms of Albion and bring magic back, _this_ is where you start. By killing Morgana.”

“Not like this,” Arthur insisted. Though he had to admit, he was scared—of Emrys, of the future, of being there at that moment.

“Don’t you see? If we do things your way, you’ll die. Let’s just kill her and be done with it!”

“You’re forgetting the part where _we don’t know where she is_!”

“Aithusa knows,” Emrys said, gesturing with his other arm to the dragon. “She can lead me right—”

“Us. She can lead _us_ right to her.”

“You’re not getting anywhere close to her. You’re staying here in Camelot where you’ll be safe.”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I’m the King, I can do what I like!”

“Well you won’t be a very good king if you’re dead, will you?”

Arthur sputtered. “You—You can’t speak to me like that!”

Aithusa’s sudden roar interrupted them, but Arthur barely registered it. He was too busy watching Emrys sink to his knees beside the white dragon, his cloak reducing him to not much more than a shadow on the forest floor. He was too busy hearing someone else’s voice in his head, the only other person who dared to speak to him so boldly.

_Look at what we’ve got. You...Me…_

_You don’t know how many times I’ve saved your life._

_I’m going to be at your side, like I always am, protecting you._

“Please, Arthur,” the voices said now. “Just let me do this. Let me protect you, _please_.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. It was impossible, connecting the two. There was no way the most powerful sorcerer in Albion was his clumsy, light-hearted manservant. Arthur had wished it before, from the very beginning, but there was _no way_.

And yet, Merlin always insisted on riding into danger with him, even before they’d become lovers. Merlin was always there, at court, in bed, in battle. It was no wonder Arthur had never seen Emrys protecting him before, how Emrys had seemed to be there without ever being there. Emrys had been hiding in plain sight.

Arthur didn’t know who he was more angry at—himself or Merlin. It had been Merlin who’d played the fool and feigned ignorance, who had lied directly to Arthur’s face in the most intimate of moments, but it’d been Arthur who’d been blind. He’d been betrayed again and again—by his sister, by his uncle, and now by the person he cherished most in the world.

He’d asked Merlin once how he was meant to be King, how he was meant to rule Camelot if he couldn’t even see the people closest to him were lying. How could Merlin have lied to him then?

Did Arthur even know the man who claimed to love him?

“Tell me, Emrys,” Arthur began. “Why are you so keen to have me stay out of harm’s way?”

Emrys looked up, and at the same time the ball of light above dimmed before fading entirely. “You’re my King. Why wouldn’t I wish to see you safe?”

Arthur shook his head. “No. Everyone has a motive, some sort of agenda.”

“Motive?” Emrys got to his feet, the shadow of his form elongating. Arthur struggled to believe it was Merlin under there. “I was born to protect you, Arthur. I have no other purpose, no other use for my magic or reason to live. What good am I with you dead? I might as well be nothing at all.”

“That’s—”

“And if that’s not motive enough for you, then think of the benefits for me and my people. The druids yearn for the freedom to practise magic again, Arthur. I want to be able to serve you without fear of execution.”

“You already have that ability.”

“Do I?”

“You know I wouldn’t kill you, not after everything you’ve done.”

Emrys was silent a while before saying, “Maybe you won’t kill me, but perhaps you’ll hate me. Perhaps you won’t be able to stand the sight of me when you learn the truth. After everything I’ve done.”

“We won’t know for certain until you tell me,” Arthur said.

“And I won’t tell you until after the ban’s lifted. We had a deal.”

Arthur took a step forward, grinding his teeth. “I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have made a deal with a liar.”

“And yet you have. So honour it. The same way I’ll honour my vow to protect you no matter the cost.”

In the blink of an eye, Arthur was left alone, with nothing but the rustling leaves and Aithusa.

It wasn’t long after that that even Aithusa flew off, disappearing into the night as her master had.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

It was a long walk back to the castle. Through the meadow, past the gate, into the lower town, up to the citadel. It gave Arthur time to think.

He had no idea what he should do. At first, part of him still doubted Merlin to be Emrys, but most of him couldn’t be more sure. It was as though everything fell into place on that shadowy walk back—Merlin crying over the loss of Balinor when Arthur hadn’t a clue what to make of it; Merlin standing there alone after the dragon had attacked, telling Arthur that he’d dealt it a fatal blow; Merlin disappearing for sometimes days at a time doing gods knew what; Merlin always seeming to stay alive in the face of incredible danger.

Arthur was walking up the castle steps when he convinced himself that there was no doubt about it—Merlin was Emrys.

Next to be decided, however, was what he should do. He was furious, of course, betrayed, agonised, hurt more than anything. He wanted to ask Merlin how he could possibly do this to him, after all this time and after so many loving moments together.

But Arthur finally decided he wouldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t say a word to let on he knew the truth. He would ask more pointed questions, perhaps watch Merlin more closely, or somehow get Merlin to confess before he passed the new law. But other than that, he would do nothing.

His heart was heavy with despair as he walked back, heavier than his sister and uncle’s betrayal had left him, even his father’s death. Those at least had been relatively quick; none of the others had lain with him, dug their way into his heart ever so slowly only to plant seeds of anguish and lies. He tried to see it from Merlin’s point of view, recalling the words he’d said as Emrys, that he was being selfish and feared Arthur would hate him. But all Arthur could play back in his head was every time Arthur spoke of Emrys to Merlin and Merlin had lied, all the time Merlin had spent researching magic with him as though he was barely more knowledgeable than Arthur.

All he could remember then, at that moment, were the lies.

Merlin was in bed when Arthur returned to their chambers. He was on his side, dark hair contrasting against the pillows, breathing what seemed to be quite evenly.

Arthur looked around. No cloak, no boots, no evidence that Merlin had left.

With a sigh, Arthur walked over to the table and took off his chainmail. He didn’t try to be quiet about it, considering he doubted Merlin was sleeping anyway. Unsurprisingly, Merlin shifted in the sheets and rolled over when Arthur noisily put his sword down.

“You’re back,” he said hoarsely.

“I am.”

The curt tone of Arthur’s voice clearly wasn’t lost on Merlin, who sat up. “What’s wrong?”

Arthur laughed humourlessly. “That’s a familiar question, isn’t it? ‘What’s wrong.’ How about I’ll tell you when you tell me?”

“Was only trying to help,” Merlin muttered. “Sorry.”

Arthur chucked his boots to the side. “I’ll tell you in the morning. I always tell you everything, don’t I?”

Arthur looked over his shoulder when Merlin didn’t immediately reply. Merlin was frowning at him, his brow furrowed. How he managed to look so genuinely confused and innocent when he was undoubtedly guilty was a mystery to Arthur. Perhaps he’d perfected it over the years.

“I suppose you do,” Merlin said at last. He sank back into the covers and turned on his side.

Arthur didn’t want to talk about it now, and doubted he’d want to in the morning. He wanted to hit something, wanted to scream and break things into little pieces. He didn’t think he could get into bed and sleep next to the person who’d done this to him in the first place, not when he was so upset. It was the last thing he wanted to do. But he supposed if Merlin could hide things so well and keep so many secrets while smiling and professing his love, he could do it as well.

So Arthur slid into bed, turning his back on Merlin before closing his eyes. He tensed a moment when Merlin sighed and settled closer against him, pressing their backs flush together, but then forced himself to relax.

He fought against the rising lump in his throat. He wouldn’t cry when he should be angry. He wouldn’t feel sad when he should feel betrayed. He was stronger than that, and he wouldn’t let someone who hurt him so badly have the power to make him cry.

But he couldn’t swallow properly. He couldn’t breathe. With Merlin there, sleeping and warm and as seemingly innocent as he’d always been, unaware of everything he’d torn apart in Arthur, it became too much. Arthur felt crushed beneath an impossible weight and couldn’t stop at least one tear from falling.

Of course, when one fell, the others poured out, too.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

“Morning!”

Arthur jerked to wakefulness, startled by Merlin’s cheery voice. He was annoyed for a few seconds, and groaned into his pillow. He buried his face in the soft folds and blocked out the sun Merlin was letting in. But then the memory of the previous night came back and his insides twisted in agony.

He didn’t want to get out of bed. He wanted to pretend everything that had gone wrong hadn’t happened at all.

“Are you still being an arse this morning?”

Arthur peered out from behind his pillow at Merlin, whose voice was much closer now. He was leaning his hands on the bed, looking down at Arthur in that wonderfully curious way of his, head tilted and one side of his mouth curled up in a teasing grin.

For some reason, Arthur half expected Merlin’s eyes to turn gold. He stared long after an awkward amount of time passed and yet they remained as clear blue as ever.

He turned his face back into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut.

_It hurts so much, why does it hurt so much, why is he Emrys, why did he lie…_

Suddenly Arthur felt Merlin’s hand on his shoulder. “Arthur?”

Arthur flinched away. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Have you got breakfast?”

He threw back the covers and pushed past Merlin to walk to the table. He was going to be alright, he could do this, he was strong…

“Guess that’s a yes to my question,” he heard Merlin mutter.

He took his seat at the table and nearly erupted when Merlin sat across from him as usual. He wanted to scream ‘What do you think you’re doing? You haven’t earned the right to sit there, you liar, get the hell away!’ But he clenched his fists and took a deep breath before picking up his fork to eat what Merlin had brought him.

There was mostly silence until Merlin broke it.

“I’m sorry.”

Arthur stopped with a bite halfway to his mouth and looked up. Merlin was frowning down at his food.

He didn’t have to ask, but asked anyway.

“For what?”

Merlin chewed his lip before answering, and it just made things harder. Emrys was a shadowy figure, a dragonlord, a killer, and here was Arthur’s gentle Merlin chewing his lip uncertainly at the breakfast table.

“For the way things are between us right now,” he said. “I hate it and I know it’s my fault but I’m not sure how to fix it. I want to fix it but...I’m just sorry, alright?”

Arthur brought the bite to his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and put his fork down to take a sip of his drink before replying.

“I think I’m going to stop working with Emrys.”

Unsurprisingly, Merlin’s head jerked up and he stared at Arthur in bewilderment.

“That’s a jump in topic, but why?” he asked. “Did something go wrong last night?”

“I guess you could say that. I don’t trust him anymore.”

There, that flicker in Merlin’s eyes—was that hurt? Some bitter part of Arthur wanted it to be.

“Why?”

Arthur dropped his gaze back to his breakfast. “The man’s more corrupt than I thought.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

Merlin’s voice was raising. Arthur’s pulse was quickening. He’d never felt like he had to be on the defensive around Merlin before, but now that’s exactly how he felt. It was so strange, so foreign.

So sad.

“He wants to kill Morgana.”

“And why’s that such a bad thing?” Merlin snapped.

“It’s complicated.”

“How?”

“There’s more to killing than just taking a life, Merlin.”

“If it needs to be done, then—”

“I don’t expect you to understand, you don’t even like me hunting animals.”

Merlin’s chair slid across the room before falling back with a loud clatter, and Arthur half believed it to be magic before he realised it was from the force of Merlin suddenly standing up. He’d never seen Merlin look so angry or act so impulsively, and was already clutching the arm of his chair to keep from instinctively reaching for his sword.

“I’m not hungry,” Merlin said flatly. He was already at the door when he finished with, “Dress yourself this morning, _sire_.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur’s method had always been to shove things to the back of his mind. It had come after years of practice.

When his father said something hurtful or had given him a disapproving look, Arthur trained harder, studied more, focused on earning his friends’ respect. (He may have started to come off as a bit arrogant in pursuing this last, though.)

When Morgana came to live with him in the castle, Arthur channelled his jealousy the way any teenager would have, by insulting her and one-upping her every chance he got. (And perhaps this led to his becoming more arrogant, but he couldn’t help that.)

He’d been going into battle since he was sixteen, slayed dozens of men, each with families and histories of their own, cutting short their lives; Arthur told himself that it was for Camelot, that he was building a better future and that casualties were to be expected. (And perhaps he boasted about the fact that he’d been trained to kill since birth because it hurt him to know that he’d been trained to kill since birth.)

When his uncle betrayed him and he’d nearly lost his kingdom, Arthur had vowed that it would never happen again. He’d pulled a sword from a stone, he’d made a promise to his people, and he’d put his efforts into undoing what he’d been too blind to see was being done in the first place. (Maybe he _had_ been a bit proud and too dismissive of Merlin’s attempts to warn him of the betrayal, but he’d never make that mistake again.)

Arthur used the same method now. He shoved the pain and betrayal to the back of his mind where he wouldn’t let it hurt him. Sure, there seemed to be a hole in the middle of his chest now, a dull ache that occasionally flared up and twisted his insides again when his control slipped and everything came crashing back full force. But for the most part, Arthur was able to throw himself into his tasks. Which he did immediately after he finished breakfast, after Merlin had stormed out and left him feeling split in two terrible pieces—one half full of anger, the other of despair.

The first thing Arthur did was dispatch two knights to ride off and tell the others to halt the search for the beast. Arthur was a man of his word, even if the dragonlord he’d made the promise to wasn’t.

The second thing was a council meeting, which he paid so much attention to that it was obvious Gwen knew something was on his mind. He ignored her subtly questioning looks and pretended to be particularly interested in the apparent antics of a band of thieves threatening one of the borders of the kingdom. (Though to be honest, by the end, he still wasn’t sure if their leader went by Hood or Wood. The council members seemed to be undecided and simply called him “that blasted Robin fellow.”)

After that, Arthur went straight to the library to read about scrying again. He’d considered going to Gaius, but felt that would only bring to the forefront of his mind the very matter he was seeking to shy away from, and therefore worsen the way he felt.

He focused especially on crystallomancy. It seemed to take powerful magic to be able to control what the crystals showed, to demand to see certain images and not simply take what they offered. But that wasn’t surprising since Emrys was the most powerful—

 _Merlin_ —

Arthur slammed the book shut.

He looked up travelling spells after that, searching for something that would allow someone to disappear as Emrys— _Merlin_ —had done the night before. He finally found it in a passage that lightly touched on teleportation, but when he went to search for the book which held the spell, he found it missing from the shelf. Of course.

After spending the late afternoon training the knights—which he wasn’t meant to do anymore, but had to take his anger out on something—he finally went to the mapmaker’s chambers. There weren’t many detailed maps of the Northern Plains, but Arthur had to start somewhere, and he’d rather have a vague idea of what he was getting into than none at all.

He was in his room studying the maps at his desk when Merlin came in with their dinner, and the pain he’d been shoving to the back of his mind all day came down on him all at once. He could hardly breathe for a moment, the crushing weight seeming to have returned and making it impossible for him to do more than tense the muscles in his stomach and try to keep from groaning aloud.

 _He’s Emrys, he’s Merlin, it hurts, he has magic, he lied to me, it hurts, I hate him, I love him, it hurts so fucking much, oh gods, liar liar liar, why did you lie to me I gave you everything_ —

He clenched his fists and inhaled deeply, slowly, evenly. He could tell from the way Merlin was moving that Merlin too was making an effort to put the morning’s events behind him, that he’d probably spent his day in a similar fashion to Arthur’s, though surely in not nearly as much pain.

“Feeling better then?” Arthur dared to ask once he felt his voice would come out firmly. “My chairs are safe, I hope.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Merlin said, pouring wine from the jug into one goblet then another. “You’re being stupid as usual, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re the one who got angry for no reason and _I’m_ being stupid, am I?”

“As usual. What’s that there?”

Merlin was staring at the maps strewn about Arthur’s desk. It wouldn’t do any good to roll them up and lie about it now. Besides, Arthur was tired of lies.

“Maps of the Northern Plains,” he said warily.

Merlin set the jug down and walked over with his arms crossed. His face was more curious than accusatory, but only just.

“And what’s so interesting about the Northern Plains all of a sudden?” he asked lightly.

“It’s where Emrys believes Morgana to be,” Arthur began. He nearly didn’t continue, but pushed himself to go on before he could convince himself otherwise. “I’m going to lead an army up there.”

Merlin sighed and turned away, going back to the table with his head down.

“What?” Arthur asked.

Merlin’s voice was decidedly less light when he replied. “Nothing. Come eat.”

Arthur stood and followed Merlin across the room, even though what he wanted to do was yell at Merlin and tell him to leave the room altogether.

They ate. It was the most tense meal Arthur had had in a while, worse even than breakfast that morning because of how many things went unspoken. Merlin was frowning deeply again, smoothing his features when he remembered he oughtn’t to frown, then continuing when he couldn’t help it. It was almost amusing to watch now that Arthur knew what to look for.

“I want the day off tomorrow,” Merlin said suddenly. He hadn’t looked up when he said it, and continued not to when he went on. “You’ll be in court all day, or most of it. You won’t need me, you’ll hardly notice I’m gone.”

“I always notice when you’re gone.” Arthur said it without thinking, then pushed down the swell of pain that flared in his chest. “Why do you want the day off? You know you never get days off.”

“You won’t need me, like I said.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t see how what I choose to do with my time is any of your business.”

If it were any other time, Arthur would’ve given in to the urge to throw his fork across the room and shout at Merlin to get out of his sight. He would’ve lost the control he’d barely been managing to maintain all day and accuse Merlin of lying, of having betrayed his trust from the moment they met.

Arthur couldn’t do that now. Though he longed to have everything out in the open and make Merlin take responsibility for his actions, it was important that it not start with him. _Merlin_ needed to be the one to come forward and confess first. Arthur wouldn’t have it any other way.

And, perhaps more importantly, he didn’t want Merlin sneaking off to—he couldn’t even believe he was thinking the phrase—kill anyone. It would only put him in danger, and Arthur didn’t need the complicated emotional conflict of being simultaneously worried about him while hating him.

“My answer is still no.”

“You’re being unreasonable! That’s not fair!”

“You work for me, it’s what you’re _supposed_ to be doing. How is that not fair?”

Merlin pushed back from the table, and the screech of wood made Arthur flinch. Then he realised that Merlin was leaving, that he was storming for the door, and that couldn’t happen, Merlin couldn’t leave.

“Merlin!” Arthur screamed angrily, getting to his feet himself. “I asked you a question!”

Merlin spun on his heels, and the look he gave Arthur was cold with fury. “Alright. It’s not fair because we both know I’m more than just your servant, and even servants who _aren’t_ fucking their masters get days off. Maybe it is different because you’re the King, but there’s no excuse when I know for a fact you’ve nothing you need me for tomorrow. You’re just being a selfish prat as usual!”

Merlin didn’t wait for a reply. He spun around again and pulled the door open before Arthur could say anything.

“ _Merlin_!”

Merlin didn’t listen, and Arthur wasn’t going to chase him. He couldn’t, not through the castle with others able to witness. The best he could do was tell another servant or a guard to go after him, but that had the potential to raise just as much alarm.

Arthur tried to calm down and consider his options. Because it was Merlin, emotions kept clouding his judgement. It wasn’t an emotional decision he needed to make right now, but a tactical one. What was the best course of action under the circumstances?

Arthur clenched the back of a chair and stared at the door as his mind raced. It was impossible to let Merlin get too far, that much was obvious. He was just the headstrong sort of person who’d go straight to Morgana without any sort of real plan, thinking that time was of the essence and he’d plan on the way. If Arthur waited a minute, even a _second_ longer, Merlin might be past bringing back. Worse, he might end up—

Arthur grabbed his sword from where it lay across the seat of a chair, retrieved a cloak from the wardrobe, and scanned his chambers for anything else he might need as he secured his scabbard. Finding nothing, he started for the door.

Halfway down the corridor, he realised it was ridiculous to even entertain the idea of going after Merlin without first letting someone know. He grit his teeth at the thought, but, being the King, he did need to inform someone.

He’d make a stop by Gwen’s rooms on the way out of the castle, with strict instructions to let no one but Gaius know where he was off to. After that, he’d put his years of tracking skills to good use.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur was worried Merlin had had too much of a head start, and was even more worried the waning moon would make it difficult to follow his steps, but he was lucky Merlin was clumsy and heavy-footed. It was easy to make out the footprints, the broken twigs and displaced leaves. Judging from the pressure on the ball of the foot, Merlin was running so fast he was on the tips of his toes. Arthur hurried on, not wanting to fall too far behind.

He’d always had more endurance than Merlin. Merlin was a fast runner, but not for long periods of time. It wouldn’t surprise Arthur if Merlin had slowed to a jog now and again, or even stopped to catch his breath.

Arthur, however, knew to pace himself, even with his mind and body flooded with a flurry of emotion, namely, worry. It was his endurance which finally allowed him to catch up.

He wasn’t sure of what he was seeing at first, but confirmed to himself that it _was_ Merlin by the shape of the shadowy figure walking into the clearing just ahead. He knew the shape of Emrys well enough by now.

But he was at a loss. If he called out, Merlin would know that he knew his secret.

Before he could decide anything, Emrys lowered his hood, and there, at last, Arthur saw him as Merlin. The waning moon gave just enough light for Arthur to see Merlin’s upturned face, cheekbones cutting dark shadows over his cheeks, and the set of his brow fierce in its determination. Arthur knew immediately that Merlin was searching the sky for his dragon. For Aithusa.

“ _Aithusa!_ ”

Arthur had never heard Merlin’s voice reach that timbre or volume before. He was used to the haunting voices of Emrys’s disguise, but this was even more chilling. It made Arthur tense and nervous before Merlin even continued.

“ _E male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!_ ”

Arthur felt as though the ground had disappeared from under him. His stomach plummeted and he had to hold the nearby tree to steady himself. To see the hooded Emrys cast a spell was mesmerising, enchanting, but to see Merlin wield such power was frightening and...even a small bit intimidating. Everything besides the lies seemed to slip into place in that moment—Merlin was powerful. Merlin was magic.

Arthur came back to his senses when he heard the heavy beating of wings. Shifting his gaze up to the sky over the clearing, he saw the dragon shape of Aithusa flying overhead. Slowly, she lowered herself to the forest floor in front of Merlin, who stepped forward.

After a moment of silence, Arthur realised they were speaking without words. In another moment, they might be off to Morgana, leaving Arthur behind. Would Aithusa take Merlin on her back? Merlin hadn’t taken a horse, no doubt because it would’ve drawn attention immediately. Arthur was running out of time to act.

He stepped into the clearing.

Aithusa noticed first, turning faster than Arthur thought possible for something of her size. Not a second later, Merlin put his hood back up and turned to face him.

He said nothing, but Arthur knew now why Emrys chose silence so often. Silence was preferable to lying outright.

“I’m looking for Merlin,” Arthur said at last. “I think he might’ve gone off and done something stupid again.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if he imagined the soft snort coming from across the clearing. He wouldn’t have been surprised, though.

“You might look in the tavern,” Merlin said. The disguise of his voice was back, of course. “You shouldn’t be out here. It isn’t safe.”

“You’re telling the King of Camelot where he should and shouldn’t be now?” Arthur retorted, taking another step forward. Under the cloak, he thought he saw Merlin tense. “Either way, I’m safe enough now.”

“I won’t be here long. I think it’d be wise of you to go back to the castle.”

“Are you going after Morgana?”

Now Arthur was certain Merlin tensed. Aithusa somehow managed to look wary, passing her gaze between the two of them.

“Are you going to try to stop me?” Merlin asked.

Arthur laughed humourlessly. “Do you really think I could? You always do what you want, don’t you?”

Merlin was silent.

Arthur took another step forward, then another, and another. The big balls of Aithusa’s blue eyes traced every movement, but strangely, Arthur wasn’t scared. “You must feel like a god, having so much control over everything,” Arthur said. “You decide my fate, and therefore the fate of the kingdom. All the citizens in it, right down to the lives of the children. I’m the King and even I have to do what you say.”

Arthur hadn’t realised the weight of it all until then, and it left him a bit breathless. He didn’t dare let it show, though. He pressed onward, determined to get something out of Merlin.

“You know that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Arthur was close now, close enough to see the outline of a face in the dark interior of the hood, but no clear definition.

“No. I’ve told you before, you’re _my_ King, and I do as _you_ command. But when it comes to your safety—”

“You know what’s best for me? Is that it?”

Again, silence.

“I’m coming with you,” Arthur said.

“No—”

“Have you even got any food? Any water?”

The hood dipped as Merlin lowered his head, futilely searching the area by his feet.

“Any weapons?” Arthur continued. “And if you did hunt down something with magic, would you even know how to skin it, or what parts you could eat?”

Arthur was almost certain Merlin didn’t.

“Perhaps not a deer, but a rabbit,” Merlin said. “I told you I grew up in a village. I’d have to be an idiot not to know how to prepare a rabbit.”

Well, he’d been _almost_ certain.

“Just listen—”

“You’re not coming with me!”

Even beneath the multitude of voices, Arthur could hear the familiar tone of Merlin’s anger and frustration. He imagined the same irritated furrow of his lover’s brow, the fiery gleam in his sparkling blue eyes.

He knew exactly what he had to say.

“You’re doing this because you don’t want to see me hurt,” he began. “I understand that. But you know I can’t sit idly by and let you single-handedly defend my kingdom for me. If I can’t do it myself, then I shouldn’t be King at all. Morgana is my sister; if you won’t let me confront her on my terms, at least let me accompany you to confront her on yours.”

Nudging Merlin’s shoulder, Aithusa made a sound halfway between a purr and a gargle. Merlin looked at her briefly before sighing and turning away from Arthur completely. Arthur could tell from that action alone that he’d succeeded.

“I’m not your enemy, Arthur,” he said mournfully. “You needn’t bargain with me or be quite so diplomatic. I wish you didn’t feel you have to.” With another heavy sigh, he turned around again. “Alright. You can come with us. But I’m warning you, the moment I have an opening to kill Morgana, I’m going to take it. Don’t try to stop me.”

Arthur nodded, even though his stomach twisted and every instinct told him it was wrong.

“Does anyone know you’ve left the citadel?” Merlin asked.

“Only Guinevere, at the moment.”

“Did you bring any bedrolls with you?”

“No.”

“Not a problem for me, since I’ve slept on the ground before, though I doubt you’ll enjoy it,” Merlin said. “And you’re not wearing chainmail. You’ve not made this easy, have you?”

“If I go back for it, can I be sure you won’t leave without me?”

Merlin considered a moment, too long a moment, during which Arthur’s heart clenched. Finally Merlin said, “I’ll be here.” He sat on the grass without another word, the shadow of his cloak shrinking but becoming darker.

Arthur frowned as he turned back toward Camelot. He didn’t like doubting either Emrys _or_ Merlin, and yet he did doubt them...him. He knew, however, that he had no choice if he was going to at least attempt to get what he wanted. He took a breath and started running back to the castle.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin felt rotten. It was just what he needed, Arthur following him into the forest. But he had to admit, it’d been stupid of him to take off so suddenly and without much preparation. While he had considered going by the kitchens on his way out of the castle, he’d ultimately decided against it, he was still so angry and out of his head. He’d even run the whole way instead of teleporting just to try and work some of the anger out.

When Arthur returned, it was with horses, and Merlin noticed immediately his usual steed Hengroen. Despite the cloak hiding his face, Hengroen must’ve recognised Merlin, too, because he nuzzled him affectionately when Merlin approached.

“He seems to like you,” Arthur said from atop his own horse. Merlin could smell the food from the royal kitchens, and figured that was what the bags draped over Arthur’s side contained.

“I’m good with animals,” Merlin replied, stroking Hengroen’s mane.

“It’s Merlin’s horse, but seeing as how he’s off throwing a tantrum, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Merlin bristled. “Considering what I’ve heard about you, I’m sure his ‘tantrum’ is justified.” He took hold of the saddle’s horn and hoisted himself up. “Come on. I want to make it a bit further before stopping for the night.”

 _Which way, Aithusa?_ he thought to the dragon. Aithusa extended her wings and shot up into the sky with a staggering gust of wind.

She was already getting stronger, that was for sure. It might’ve been the presence of her dragonlord that had her flourishing, but Merlin didn’t want to flatter himself. Smiling proudly, he nudged Hengroen forward. The horse knew him so well that all it took was a thrust of his hips.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

They didn’t ride far. The moon wasn’t long past beginning its descent when Merlin told Aithusa they were going to make camp for the night and she clumsily landed among the trees. Hengroen whinnied a bit at the dragon’s noisy entrance, but Merlin stroked his neck soothingly.

Arthur had been quiet most of the ride, for which Merlin was grateful. He didn’t like feeling Arthur’s presence with him when he was out to do something of such a dark nature. It unsettled him, even though Arthur had no way of knowing he was Emrys. It also made him loathe himself even more for what he was doing, because now he was certain Arthur would never forgive him once the time came for him to reveal himself. A whirlpool of guilt and tension had kept his stomach churning the entire trip.

“I’ll secure the horses,” Arthur said, taking Hengroen’s reins.

Settling down to sleep under Aithusa’s wing, Merlin thought he would’ve been bothered by having to keep his hood up and remained disguised. He was already bothered by having to maintain the spell to alter his voice. But with the night air having become a bit chilly, the hood actually worked to his advantage. He curled up with a sigh against Aithusa’s flank and closed his eyes, trying not to think about Arthur only a few feet away.

“No fire?” Arthur asked.

Merlin was fine with Aithusa’s warmth, and if it weren’t for the circumstances he would’ve invited Arthur to join him under her wing, where there was just barely enough room for the both of them. “If you want one, you’re going to have to make it yourself.”

There was the sound of Arthur shuffling a bit on his bedroll, but he otherwise didn’t move. Merlin figured the sigh that followed shortly after was Arthur’s resignation to go the night without it.

“I told Gaius where I was going and who I was going with,” Arthur said. “He wasn’t happy.”

“I don’t imagine he would be.”

Merlin could see Gaius’s disapproving expression now. No doubt he would’ve scolded Merlin for his lack of caution (not to mention lack of brains), but Merlin was set on his course. He was going to follow through on it no matter what. He would die before he let any harm come to Arthur or Camelot.

“Go to sleep, sire,” he told Arthur.

There was another shuffle as Arthur tried to get comfortable, and Merlin was suddenly worried about him sleeping in his armour. He knew it wasn’t an ideal sleeping arrangement, but there was nothing he could do.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sire,’” Arthur said blearily a few moments later, obviously as near to falling asleep as Merlin was himself. “Just Arthur will do.”

Merlin’s chest tightened. At that moment he longed to hold Arthur close and apologise for everything. He wanted to throw off his cloak and become Arthur’s Merlin again.

This was a terrible idea. He instantly regretted ever allowing Arthur to come with him. There were a thousand different things he wished he’d done differently.

“Good night, Arthur,” he replied hoarsely.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was sore in the morning. It’d been a while since he’d slept on the hard ground; he’d grown so used to the King’s bed. He wasn’t surprised when Arthur woke almost the second he got to his feet, the noise jolting him from what was no doubt a fitful sleep.

Merlin, with his naturally talkative personality, had to remind himself to keep quiet. He dusted the dirt and leaves from his cloak and searched their belongings for Arthur’s waterskin.

Arthur seemed about to say something as Merlin handed it to him but clamped his mouth at the last second. He rubbed his eyes with his other hand as he drank. Merlin found the action so endearingly youthful that a wave of affection washed over him and he had to turn away to hide the pain it caused him.

“Emrys,” Aithusa’s voice echoed in Merlin’s head. Merlin turned toward her. “It’s colder the farther north we go. You’ll be wanting something warmer soon.”

It was simply one more thing Merlin had foolishly not taken into account. _I’ve nothing else to wear_ , he thought to her.

She raised her head toward the left, her neck arcing in a semi-circle, and exhaled shortly through her large nostrils. “There’s a druid camp not far. That way.”

_We don’t have time to stop._

“You will freeze to death if you don’t.”

“Everything alright?” Arthur asked from behind him. Merlin turned and saw he was breaking off a piece of bread to shove in his mouth.

Merlin only just remembered to put up the spell for his voice. “We’re not dressed for the north. Aithusa says a druid camp is nearby and thinks we should ask them for warmer clothing.”

Arthur hummed thoughtfully as he chewed, then said, “I suppose they _would_ just give it to you, what with you being Emrys.”

“We don’t have time.”

“We’ll want to make time. It’s no good fighting with frozen fingers, I can tell you that. Never underestimate the cold,” Arthur said.

“He is right,” Aithusa added, even going so far as to nod her head. Arthur was clearly pleased to see a dragon apparently agreeing with him.

Merlin was torn. He didn’t want to visit the druids, mostly because it involved more deception. But he knew both Arthur and Aithusa were right.

“Morgana’s not going anywhere, is she?” Arthur pointed out. He walked over and handed Merlin a piece of bread. “Here.”

Merlin reached out to take the offered food. His and Arthur’s fingers brushed as he did, and immediately he lowered his head, suddenly aware of how brightly the sun was shining, how he no longer had the cover of night. He took the bread quickly, not lingering a moment too long with his pale fingers exposed. He wondered just how much of his face Arthur could make out beneath the shadow of his hood.

“We’ll make for the settlement after we’ve eaten,” Merlin said, pulling off a bite-sized chunk of bread as he sat on a log. “You’ll stay a good distance away with Aithusa while I speak with them. If they live this close to the north, they’re sure to have fur cloaks to spare for us. It should simply be a matter of picking them up and getting on our way.”

Chewing almost aggressively, Arthur snorted. He was staring at the ground morosely.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Arthur said, sounding bitter. “I’m simply tired of being kept in the dark and lied to. Not to mention being pushed around when it comes to matters that involve my own kingdom.”

Merlin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, fighting off the rising feelings of shame and remorse. He had to keep it together, at least for the duration of their journey. They had a purpose, a task, and though Arthur seemed intent on muddying everything up with emotions, Merlin was determined not to be swayed. To break down and bare it all now would ruin everything.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Merlin said carefully, hoping the voice spell disguised tremors as well. “I don’t have words for how sorry I am. But these are delicate matters. I wouldn’t tell you how to rule Camelot, or what’s best for your citizens. Beyond giving some sort of insight, perhaps. I’m not royalty; I have no idea how to govern. That’s your domain.”

“And all this is yours, yes, I understand that perfectly well,” Arthur snapped. “But when one affects the other, there has to be some discussion, some _trust_. The sorcerers and druids under your command live within _my_ borders, do they not? They live in my villages, my forests; they hunt my animals—”

“You have no claim over nature!” Merlin exclaimed, suddenly furious. “You don’t own the wild beasts or the land they roam.”

Arthur waved his hand dismissively, which only served to make Merlin angrier. “You misunderstand me. I use ‘my’ as a relative term. On the map, where do these people live? Within Camelot’s borders, correct? We’ll call it an intersection of realms. The physical realm and the magical realm. How can I know how to most effectively govern my people in the physical realm when the leader of the magical realm is being obstinate?”

“I’m hardly a leader of the magical realm. That’s the gods’ place, not mine. But you’ll know soon enough.”

Arthur sneered. “Yes, you keep saying that. After I’ve lifted the ban, you’ll reveal everything. And yet here we are, travelling to what may very possibly be our deaths, while still you desperately keep your identity hidden. I have to say, it makes me wonder. I don’t have many close to me. The closest to me is Merlin, and well...Even if he did somehow have magic, he wouldn’t possibly do such a thing. Then there’s my knights, but they’re so loyal to me that—”

“Enough!” Merlin shouted, unable to bear any more. He bolted to his feet and fought the urge to throw down his bread. “If you’re quite through, we should be moving now. We’re wasting time.”

Arthur snorted again, though this time it was less resentful and more derisive, as though he hadn’t expected anything less. It alone made Merlin ache to pull back his hood and be done with it all.

He needed to pull himself together, and quickly.

“Feed the horses,” he said. “I...I’ll be back in a moment.”

He all but ran between the trees, needing to put some distance between them. After a few minutes of ambling aimlessly through the undergrowth, he fell to his knees in front of a tree and threw back his hood before placing his cheek to the cool, rough bark. He dug his fingers into the soil, burrowing into the network of roots, and felt the earth’s energy coursing through him.

He poured power into the ground, sent wave after wave of it deep into the earth from one hand, and felt it flooding back into him through the other. He’d never done something like this before, didn’t know where he’d gotten the notion, but he needed to let loose a torrent of magic into something, and he couldn’t simply go around making whirlwinds or thunderstorms. The ground was solid, firm, yet alive. He felt the raw power rushing through his body and let the steady pulsing flow of nature’s lifeblood soothe him.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur was more than a little bitter. He didn’t like the situation at all, and after the failed conversation, he resolved not to speak much until after they’d dealt with Morgana. It’d be hard, he knew, but Merlin was right about one thing; they had a mission, and that came first and foremost. If they lost sight of the goal or got distracted, they were sure to be unprepared for anything unexpected. Personal matters could be put on hold for the moment.

Merlin still wasn’t back to their camp after Arthur finished feeding and watering the horses. With a sigh, he sat down and began to brood again.

It didn’t feel right travelling alone like this, to the heart of the enemy without an army. Among the many things that troubled him about the trip, it was the fact that their mission was to assassinate Morgana like common sellswords that caused the heavy feeling of dread in his stomach. Had it been someone else perhaps, not his sister but a corrupt King or evil sorceress, Arthur would’ve felt better about their slippery course of action. His sister didn’t deserve to die this way.

Arthur put his head in his hands and sighed, remembering. It _was_ an evil sorceress they sought out. After all this time, how could he keep forgetting—this was not the Morgana who’d played pranks on him as a boy, or rolled her eyes while Father made long-winded speeches at supper. It was not the hard-headed girl who refused to take up embroidery, who had raged about not being able to practise archery. This Morgana was something dark and twisted.

Perhaps he wasn’t the person to kill her after all. He knew, should his blade ever near her neck, it’d be the flash of happier memories that would make him pause. Truer still, he’d had opportunities to end it before, and had let his old fondness for her get in the way.

Perhaps this was best...Perhaps...

“Do you know where he is?” he asked Aithusa at last, hoping whatever mental connection the two of them had extended to locating each other. Aithusa’s head rested between her claws, and she blinked lazy blue eyes at him, but finally raised up and sniffed in the direction Merlin had gone off in. Arthur craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse of the black cloak, but saw nothing.

Aithusa made a sort of growling, purring sound in her throat, with a lilting whine near the end. Arthur immediately recognised it as a sound of concern, and sprung to his feet, worried.

His lips shaped the ‘muh’ sound of Merlin’s name, and he nearly called it out. At the last second, he corrected himself. “Emrys!”

Aithusa made the sound again, though this time the whine was more pitiful. Arthur’s heart clenched. He hadn’t felt bad about what he’d said to Merlin, thinking Merlin more than deserved the lash of his words, but at the same time it pained him to think of Merlin hurting, needing to get away to hide his hurt.

He’d never felt so torn between emotions in his life. He cursed Merlin for putting him in the situation, which only started another vicious cycle of conflict.

Walking a ways into the trees, Aithusa beside him, Arthur finally caught sight of a light not too far off. He recognised the slumped, shadowy form easily enough, surrounded by a pulsating green glow. He started walking toward it, but Aithusa stopped him, a wing appearing in front of his path and keeping him walled off. When Arthur looked up at her, standing on her hind legs to make herself larger, she simply huffed out a bit of smoke through her nostrils. After a few seconds, she let herself down, and looking ahead again, Arthur saw that Merlin had stood up and turned around. He was now walking toward them, his head down, hood raised, and his face entirely hidden in shadow.

There was something different about him. Besides the specks of earth still sticking to his cloak, marring the otherwise black fabric, he was visibly changed. It was in the determined way he took each step forward, the broadness of his shoulders. Though true Arthur hadn’t felt bad about his underhanded blow before (and he still didn’t doubt he would say it again if given the chance), knowing that he’d hurt Merlin so…

There was always the fact that Merlin had lied to him for years. Arthur had simply to remind himself of that to ease any guilt he felt. But such an excuse was beginning to fall short. If he wanted to work toward a resolved situation, smooth out the wrinkles in their relationship (and he very much did want to), he would have to put good in to get good out. Poking at Merlin in some sort of petty vengeance wasn’t going to make things better for anyone, deserved or not.

“Everything alright?” Arthur asked.

Merlin didn’t reply. He walked past Arthur without a word, not even a glance. Hurt and angry, Arthur watched as Merlin and Aithusa walked back to their camp. The only sign that Merlin wasn’t entirely detached was the way he reached up to stroke Aithusa’s neck, drawing out a deep, pleased purr.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Much like he had the night before, Arthur rode behind Merlin, struggling to reconcile the two images in his head.

They were riding at an easy trot through the forest, nothing like yesterday’s furious gallop. Arthur kept his eyes pinned on Merlin’s back, taking in the straightness of his spine, the poised posture, the swing of his feet on either side of Hengroen.

It was surreal, Emrys riding the same way Merlin did. From behind like this, it was almost as if a stranger had taken over Merlin’s body and was now walking around in it.

Arthur let his gaze slide downward a bit, to the feet. He zeroed in on a single foot, covered by a boot. Merlin’s boot. And those were Merlin’s trousers covering the leg, trousers that were no longer obscured by a cloak in that position.

Perhaps it was because it was no longer night that made it so much harder. Riding through the dark, at such a speed and with so much on his mind, the internal battle hadn’t been nearly as intense. Now, in the daylight, with such details as Merlin’s _boots_ made visible, it was a thousand times worse. It was Morgana all over again—a flash of a happy memory here, only to be shoved quickly aside by the image of a dark deed there, a deed that he couldn’t fathom being done by the same person.

Arthur shook his head to try and clear away the web of thoughts. All this deceit and working in the shadows...It wasn’t something he liked at all. It wasn’t simple and straightforward, like he felt life should be.

Perhaps he should say something, after all.

In front of him, Merlin was slowing, bringing Hengroen to a stop, so Arthur did the same. The forest was quiet save for the sound of Aithusa’s wings beating the air above them. Aithusa’s shadow passed over them, and soon the rustle of leaves filled the silence as well as she descended next to them.

Arthur looked around, slowly scanning through the trees for any sign of the druid camp. He was familiar enough with their ways to know they often had people scouting the edges. There also ought to have been smoke from a fire somewhere nearby. Arthur saw nothing, heard nothing except for his and Aithusa’s breathing.

Merlin began getting off his horse. “You’ll wait here with Aithusa,” he said, voice disguised as ever.

Arthur had expected it, had remembered Merlin saying as much before, but it angered him no less now that the moment had come. He clenched his jaw and descended as well, saying nothing.

Not intending to stand the whole time, Arthur found a tree to sit against, securing their horses to a low-hanging branch while Merlin’s form got further and further away. He worried for a moment that someone might attack him, that even as powerful as Merlin seemingly was, he could still be ambushed from behind and taken unawares. Lowering himself to the ground and sitting on the roots of the tree, Arthur told himself not to worry about it.

Beside him, the horses shuffled occasionally, exhaling huffs of air and kicking the dirt. A breeze every now and then made Arthur shiver and reminded him that even though it was mid-day, they were indeed further north. As time passed, and Arthur grew hungry, he found himself wishing Aithusa could communicate with him as well, at least so he wouldn’t be so bored.

Just when Arthur was about to get to his feet and rummage through their packs for food, he saw a shadow of movement not far ahead.

He sprang up instantly, drawing his sword. “Who’s there?”

The shadow came from behind a thick, gnarled tree. Aithusa hadn’t moved in the slightest, which only further affirmed Arthur’s suspicion that it might be a druid on patrol. When Arthur caught sight of the familiar green, woodland clothing, and saw the spiralling, three-armed tattoo on the outside of a bare calf, he knew it was no bandit.

It was a boy.

Sheathing his sword, Arthur eyed the boy approaching him intently. Old enough to have grown a bit of uneven stubble, but young enough not to be a full grown man. His dark eyes flitted from Arthur to the horses to Aithusa and back again, fingers twitching nervously.

“Who are you, what’s your business?” the boy asked. “Where did you get that dragon?”

“I’m no enemy of the druids. I’m travelling with Emrys.”

The boy’s eyes went wide at the name. Arthur could see it plainly on his face, tales running through his head and all they entailed. “You know him?”

“This is his dragon,” Arthur replied, gesturing to Aithusa. “He left for your camp a while ago.” Arthur paused. The boy clearly didn’t know who he was, but he still wouldn’t tell anyone, much less a child, that Merlin had told him to stay here and that he’d obeyed. “I told him I would wait for him here so as not to cause too much of a disruption.”

The boy frowned. He was still young enough for his face to be an open book; Arthur could tell he was trying to put the pieces together. Finally he seemed to realise that he’d got answers to only two of his three questions.

“Our leader will want to speak with you, I think, if you’re travelling with Emrys. Who are you?”

Arthur fought back a victorious smile. It couldn’t have gone any better. It was an invitation, and Merlin could hardly fault him for it. Aithusa, however, was eyeing him shrewdly.

“I’m Arthur.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur had been to numerous druid settlements in his day. Many, unfortunately, he had raided and burnt to the ground on his father’s orders. The camp he and the boy approached now was one of the more larger establishments. A total of four fires were lit amongst the sprawling tents, with a group of at least five around each. There were a few wooden structures around, small houses with animal pelts for doors, but as far as Arthur could see most families shared a tent or a collection of tents. Scattered about were rickety looking chairs, mostly being occupied by the elderly, but that seemed to be it in the way of furniture.

The main building was obvious, set up at the far end of the camp between two large, old trees. The boy didn’t bring Arthur that far, leaving him instead on the outskirts of the whole settlement, but Arthur knew instantly that was where Merlin was.

“You’ll have to wait here while I speak to him, I’m afraid,” the boy said, looking honestly apologetic, and even a bit frightened. “Even if you are Arthur Pendragon.”

“As long as you’re quick about it. The dragon seems to be drawing attention.”

The boy whipped his head around, looking over his shoulder at the curious expressions of the others. “Yes, I should hurry.” He took off immediately.

Arthur worried that he’d be swarmed the second his guide left him, and was relieved that that wasn’t the case. Though somehow it was worse, standing there awkwardly with his two horses and his dragon, trying not to pay attention to the stares. He hoped either Merlin or the boy would come back soon and they could get on their way.

It was Merlin he saw first, though Merlin certainly didn’t see him. If he had, he would’ve put his hood up again, but there he was, dark head held high as he followed one of the women from the main building out to a tent. Arthur hadn’t forgotten what Merlin looked like of course, but it was strange to see his face revealed while still in the clothes of Emrys. A silent signal seemed to have gone up, for many of the druids (women, mostly) stopped what they were doing to follow Merlin to his destination across the camp.

Aithusa made a growling sound, even nudged Arthur with her head to get his attention, but he paid her no mind. He was captivated by the sight of Merlin standing tall, walking swiftly and importantly as the druids’ leader.

With a sudden sense of haste, Arthur put the horses’ reins under Aithusa’s claw and said, “They’re trained not to move, but just in case.” He even patted her head and added, “Thank you,” with a smile. Arthur was sure if dragons could glare, Aithusa would be giving him quite a look.

He had no time to care much. Hurrying to catch up with the crowd following Merlin, he hoped Merlin wouldn’t turn or recognise him. He didn’t want Merlin to know he knew just yet, but it was apparent the druids had asked something from him, some task he was about to carry out. It reminded Arthur of the years he spent as Crown Prince, walking among the lower city. He grudgingly admitted that Merlin did it a bit less arrogantly.

It was an ordinary tent everyone crowded in front of, peering into it eagerly as Merlin walked in alone. Standing on the tips of his toes, Arthur was able to catch glimpses of what was going on inside.

There was a low bed, so low that Arthur couldn’t even see the person lying on it. He did see the weak arms that held up the crying newborn and offered it to Merlin. Even from the centre of the jostling crowd, Arthur could make out the blush on Merlin’s cheeks as Merlin looked around sheepishly.

Suddenly everyone went quiet, sensing that Merlin was about to speak.

“I’m no priest,” he said loudly and clearly, still giving everyone that apologetic grin. “I’m not even good with names. But I’d be happy to name her if that’s what you want.”

In the midst of everyone else’s silence, the mother’s voice inside was just barely audible over the crying infant. “I’d be honoured, Emrys.”

Merlin nodded, clearing his throat. He turned to face the crowd and took a step out of the tent. Arthur ducked a little, but could still see just enough. A boy maybe seven years old was standing behind Merlin, keeping the tent open so the mother could see. Arthur wondered if it was the newborn’s brother.

All of his attention was then shifted back to Merlin, who’d softly hushed the crying and began rocking the baby gently. His heart leapt into his throat and he suddenly felt he might cry himself at the tenderness of the scene, as ridiculous as it was.

Merlin stroked the top of the infant’s head with slender hands Arthur was all too familiar with, and soon enough its cries faded into sniffles, then silence. There was only the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, of shuffling feet as everyone waited.

Arthur didn’t know if anyone else could see it, the way the weight of responsibility crept into Merlin’s face as he took a deep breath. Was anyone else familiar with the slight twitching of a brow or tightening of the mouth? Could they see the transition from sheepish, apologetic Merlin into strong, dutiful Emrys? It was slight, but Arthur knew what to look for in his lover’s face.

Merlin’s voice was full of power when he spoke, holding the baby up above his head. He was beautiful, in fact, his plump lips shaping the words with grace and his throat a strong line as he lifted his face to the sky.

“Great Goddess, ruler of the earth, the heavens, the underworld. Today we present you with Achena, the newest of your followers in the Old Ways.”

Behind Merlin, the boy by the tent opening smiled, and a burst of warm affection spread through Arthur, that Merlin could have such an effect.

“We thank the Maiden for her gift, the birth of this child, and pray that she traverses the first year without misfortune. We thank the Mother who planted the seed, and pray that the days of her life are fulfilled, and that she may be as fertile as the mother who bore her. We thank the Crone, and pray that this child be full of wisdom and knowledge, that she may live long, but be taken from us when the Goddess sees fit to keep the balance between life and death.”

Merlin lowered the baby Achena to his chest again, once more stroking the top of her head. “Triple Goddess of the Old Ways,” he said, his voice much softer as he looked into the child’s face. “We ask you to welcome her. We ask you to love her. We ask you to protect her. We ask you to bless her.”

Arthur was startled when everyone around him spoke at once. “Welcome, Achena. May the gods love you as much as we do,” they chorused.

“Watch over her as she grows. Watch over her as she lives. Watch over her with love,” Merlin said.

“Welcome, Achena. May the gods love you as much as we do.”

Merlin turned around, smiling and once again more relaxed, and carefully gave Achena to the boy behind him. The boy held what Arthur was now sure to be his sister with skinny but strong arms.

“Thank you, Emrys,” he said. His smile was wide enough then that Arthur could see missing teeth in the corner of his mouth. “You named her what I wanted.”

Merlin bent down to the boy’s level and spoke so low that Arthur, and probably everyone else, could barely hear. “Yes, I heard you asking for it. You’re powerful. I can sense it. You’ll be a good brother.”

The boy nodded vigorously, and Merlin raised himself back to full height before pulling his hood over his head again. “Nilawen?” he asked, addressing the crowd.

“I’m here, Emrys,” an older, raspier voice said behind the crowd. Arthur turned to look and saw what had to be the settlement’s leader. He was holding two fur cloaks, one draped over each arm.

The crowd began to disperse, and as Merlin made his way toward Nilawen, Arthur hurried back to where he’d left Aithusa and the horses. His guide, the boy, was also there, frowning sternly.

“You shouldn’t’ve gone off,” he said, arms crossed. “Outsiders aren’t allowed without permission. But a naming ceremony by Emrys...I can see the appeal of wanting to watch,” he added grudgingly.

Arthur took the reins from under Aithusa’s claw and stroked her neck apologetically, ignoring the boy. “Curiosity got the best of me,” he said to her. “Can we keep it a secret between us? He doesn’t know I know.”

Aithusa blew a puff of smoke, and Arthur hoped it was an affirmation. His pulse raced as Merlin approached them, cloaks in hand, and the boy quickly disappeared to get out of the way of the slinking shadow of Emrys.

“I told you to wait,” Merlin snapped, securing the cloaks to Hengroen’s saddlebags.

“A druid boy found me and brought me here. I figured it’d be rude to disagree.”

“Of course you did. Come on, we’re leaving.” He took hold of Hengroen’s mane and hoisted himself up.

“I’m hungry.”

“We’ll ride slow at first so we can eat. I had to pass on their offers of food just to hurry things up, so I’m starved as well.”

“No more stops on the way?” Arthur asked, getting onto his horse.

Merlin gave a quick thrust forward with his hips, starting the horse off at a trot. “No more stops. We have everything we need. We even have a blade forged in a dragon’s breath. From here we go straight to Morgana.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur went the whole day without asking. They rode until the sun went down, until their backsides ached from the constant riding. There’d been a few moments, when they’d stopped to water and rest the horses, that Arthur nearly broke the silence and asked what was on his mind, but he’d resolutely kept his mouth shut, deeming the quiet of night and the taking of supper a better, more peaceful time. He knew what Merlin was like when caught up in a task or determined state of mind—snappy and irritable.

It seemed Merlin hadn’t been lying about knowing how to catch and skin a rabbit, either, though he certainly hadn’t offered to do any such thing whenever they travelled with the knights. _Then_ it was always watery stew or hard bread. Arthur had always joked and called him lazy while Merlin had just gave them all a crooked grin and shrugged.

Now, with the rabbit roasting over the fire that Merlin had easily sparked with magic, it seemed the perfect time to bring up all his questions.

“There was a commotion today, at the druid settlement,” he began, settling his legs out in front of him as he leaned against a tree. “The boy who led me there told me to wait on the outside of the camp while he spoke to the leader, and I saw a crowd gathering in front of a tent.”

Merlin picked up a fallen leaf and held it to the flames, idly letting it burn to a crisp in his fingers. By the time it was nothing but ashes, he said, “There was a child just born. The birth of a child is especially important in the Old Religion. They’d gathered to welcome it to the world, that’s all.”

Arthur knew for a fact that that hadn’t been all in the slightest, and he was fully aware of Aithusa watching him from where she lay curled up not far off. Her blue eyes were somehow less vibrant in the glow of the firelight, a silvery grey that watched the two of them closely.

“I don’t want to bring up the other issue,” Arthur said. “That being the issue of your continued secrecy, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I can see how it would distract us, and that’s the last thing we need. But I am curious about the Old Religion, now that you’ve brought it up. There’s only so much one can learn from books when it comes to such things, especially considering my father had most of them burnt.”

“One day I’ll tell you. I imagine if you can still stand the sight of me after you lift the ban, there’ll be much we have to sit down and discuss. It’ll take us days, weeks, maybe, to cover it all. I can go into detail then.”

Arthur frowned. “What do you mean ‘if I can still stand the sight of you?’”

Merlin said nothing. With a wave of his hand, he made the spitted rabbit begin slowly turning on its own over the flames.

Arthur wasn’t going to give in that easily. He’d get _something_ from Merlin; he couldn’t understand why, but he had to hear him speak about what he’d done today.

 _He needs to take credit for it_ , Arthur realised suddenly. _He never does. All this time I’ve been wanting to hear Emrys speak proudly of what he’s done and he never does. He doesn’t see what his actions mean to me, not now and not as Merlin._

“I heard your voice,” Arthur said. Beneath the cloak, he thought he saw Merlin tense. “You were rather loud, in fact, otherwise I don’t think I would’ve been able to hear you all the way across the camp.”

“That’s what has you so interested in the Old Religion? A simple naming ceremony?”

“Simple? Do all newborns have one?”

The rabbit was nearly done. Edges of it were singed, and the meat was bronzing nicely. Arthur’s mouth watered and his stomach growled, but he pressed on.

“Yes,” Merlin said.

“Did you have one?”

Merlin took the rabbit from the fire just in time and began cutting off the meat. “I wasn’t born among druids. I told you I lived in a village. And though we also practised the Old Ways, we weren’t nearly as devout. Even I’m not as strict a follower as the druids.”

“That’s a no, then?”

Merlin seemed to reluctant to say, which Arthur found made sense. Even out of his disguise, he rarely spoke about his life before Camelot, though Arthur didn’t think it was on purpose. “My mother said she did it alone. It was less of a ceremony and more of a ritual.”

“They made it seem a great honour to have you do it,” Arthur said as Merlin handed him a stick of rabbit’s meat.

“I wish they wouldn’t. I don’t want honour or praise. I’m a simple man, really.” Shaking his head, Merlin sighed. “All I want is to live and be happy.”

Arthur frowned down at his supper, feeling suddenly heavy. His thoughts were back in Camelot now, back in his chambers, in fact, imagining both him and Merlin in the bath. Merlin naked, relaxed, content in Arthur’s arms as Arthur ran soapy hands lovingly over him... Nothing but a man, always nothing but a man, one Arthur loved with every part of his being. Arthur knew without having to ask that Merlin had found comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the legendary Emrys when it was just the two of them; and yet he must’ve wanted to come clean at the same time, to channel his inner chatterbox and bare everything.

It wasn’t anger Arthur felt then. In fact he could hardly swallow his food past the lump in the throat. He knew Merlin, _his_ Merlin. He was stubborn, strong-willed, jumped into situations with both feet. If he’d kept this part of him a secret for so long, it was because he thought it was what was best, despite the pain it had caused him. That was Merlin through and through. What was it Guinevere had said?

_Merlin loves you...he’d do anything for you...but you know he’s the type to suffer silently._

“I’m sorry, I’ve said too much,” Merlin murmured. “I’m not good at this. I forget that people, even you, have expectations—”

“No, that’s not…” Arthur shook his head. “I was just thinking that Merlin is that way, too. He’s pure. He’s simple, and refuses to be recognised for all the good he’s done. I...miss him, that’s all.”

Merlin’s nimble fingers plucked a bit of steaming rabbit from the serving stick and brought it into the shadow of the hood. “So do I.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

The next day they arrived in the Northern Plains. Ever so slowly their path began to incline, and snow crept into the dirt on the ground until they travelled over nothing but white. Merlin kept up a steady breeze behind them to constantly cover their tracks.

The journey was wearing him thin. He wasn’t like Arthur; he couldn’t simply push his emotions into some back drawer of the mind and carry on. At home, he had Gaius to confide in when everything piled up. Out here, alone with only Arthur and Aithusa, he had no choice but to be weighted down with guilt.

 _Soon_ , he kept telling himself. _Soon._

He worried about Arthur in his cold, metal armour, and told him as much on the start of their second day in the north. Surprisingly, Arthur nodded and said that Merlin was right. He took off the frost-encrusted silver armour and stuffed it into a saddlebag before throwing his fur cloak over his gambeson. Merlin noticed the material of the light armour was as red as Arthur’s cheeks, and fought the urge to rub some warmth into his face.

They were back to riding at a furious pace. Though their new grey and white cloaks blended nicely into the white back backdrop of the snowy north, Merlin felt exposed with no forest of trees to mask their movements. There was simply the flat expanse of land, interrupted only by the stretch of mountains to the their left. Aithusa, too, he felt was easy to spot, a white shape in the cloudless, azure sky. Where could they hide here? Where could they make camp?

He was on edge. Arthur seemed to sense it, and the closer they came to Morgana’s lair, the more he also looked nervously around. They hardly spoke, both during the day and at night. Merlin was grateful because it made the deceit easier on him, even when the nights became so cold that Arthur did have to lie beside him under Aithusa’s wing for warmth.

“We’re in Ismere, I think,” Arthur said on the third night.

It’d been another hard day of riding, and Merlin was certain his body was going to be numb for weeks. He wondered how he would explain the need for constant hot baths when they returned.

“I’m not familiar with the Northern Plains,” Merlin admitted. “I only know what Morgana’s hideout looks like from the vision in the crystal, and it was very brief. It’s a stronghold of some sort, I believe.”

“A fortress,” Aithusa corrected him. “It is quite old, and made of stone. The inside is not what one would call comfortable.”

Arthur was speaking over her, unable to hear her melodious voice. “I was studying maps before I left. Ismere is a small region rather near the east. Any more east and we’d be nearing Mercia.”

“Are there any fortresses marked on these maps you’ve studied?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s brows raised. “Yes, actually. We’re heading for the Fortress of Ismere?”

“It would seem so, according to Aithusa.”

“Any idea how we’re going to sneak up to and infiltrate a fortress? Let alone find Morgana and kill her?”

Merlin had been putting off thinking about it until he absolutely had to. He let the thoughts fly in now: Morgana’s army of Saxons, her newly acquired legion of sorcerers in training. Who knew what else she had locked in there? Mercenaries? Summoned familiars?

 _Mordred_ , Merlin thought, growling to himself.

“There are hills surrounding it,” Aithusa’s voice cut through Merlin’s musings. Merlin looked down at her. “Not as tall as the mountains, but tall enough to provide cover. Leave the horses there; there are caves if you wish to stay the night. You must approach the fortress on foot—”

“Emrys? What’s she—”

“Quiet. Go on, Aithusa.”

“There’s an entrance to the underground tunnels on the northern side. The sorcerers go there to train. There are perhaps twenty of them; too many to kill them all.”

“I don’t plan to kill them, if I can help it,” Merlin said. “They may be persuaded to join us once this is over.”

“Kill who?” Arthur asked, looking lost, and angry about it.

“There are too many to sneak past undetected,” Aithusa said. “You will have to kill at least one or two to get to the upper levels.”

Merlin nodded. “And Morgana? Do you know where she is?”

“When I was there, she spent most of her time in the throne room, with me at her side as a symbol of power. She met with many visitors, trying to forge alliances and build her numbers. These days, I am not sure.”

“Emrys!” Arthur snapped impatiently.

Merlin smiled and patted Aithusa’s head. “Thank you, Aithusa.”

“There is more.”

“I’m sure there is. But we’ve a few days yet before we arrive. It can wait.”

Merlin turned to Arthur, finally facing his glare, and wrapped himself tighter in his cloak as a strong gust of wind blew. “The fortress is surrounded by hills,” he explained. “We’ll leave the horses near a cave and sneak into the underground tunnels where the sorcerers train. We have to find Morgana from there.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” Arthur said sceptically.

“It’s the basis for a better one. Come on, we should get some sleep.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

There wasn’t much they could do when it came to the horses. They barely had enough food for themselves, and most of the water in the area was frozen or an unappealing slush. Sometimes the horses would eat the snow to quench their thirst, but Merlin didn’t think they did it with much enthusiasm or success.

Merlin and Arthur followed Aithusa for another day and half a morning before the fortress came into view on the horizon. They crested the top of the hill shortly after a small breakfast and saw the fortress in the centre of the vast expanse below.

Merlin recognised it immediately from his vision. He shuddered seeing it again, feeling as though Morgana was staring right at him. He suddenly worried that she had Seen him coming, and that perhaps this wasn’t the best plan after all.

Aithusa circled them overhead a few times before landing precariously on a boulder next to them. The horses, much more used to her by now, only shifted their feet anxiously.

“I don’t think we’ll go any further today, Aithusa,” Merlin said, aloud for Arthur’s benefit. “I want to travel the rest of the way by night. Where’s the closest cave?”

Arthur frowned when he heard Merlin’s plans to take advantage of the darkness, but thankfully didn’t comment on it. He followed Merlin silently as Aithusa led them to a small cave in the side of the hill.

It was just as well that this was the last leg of their journey. The horses looked too tired to go any further, and Merlin didn’t think they would. He secured them outside the cave, stroking them and apologising in whispers that they couldn’t fit inside, while Arthur unburdened them of their saddlebags. When Merlin finally went inside, Aithusa had curled up in the furthest corner.

Merlin conjured a simple light orb to provide them with something to see by. Arthur was sitting with his back to the cave wall, arms around his knees like a petulant child. In the new blue glow, Merlin saw him searching for Merlin’s eyes in the shadow of his hood. Arthur’s expression was strangely blank, empty, and Merlin looked away to sit down with Aithusa.

“Try to sleep a bit if you can,” he said to Arthur, making himself comfortable. “As soon as the sun sets, I plan to continue the rest of the way there.”

Merlin waited until Arthur shifted onto his side and closed his eyes. The spell he was about to do he’d never done before, and hadn’t ever thought he would. He could make his eyes see far distances ahead, and usually that was enough. But he needed another perspective now. A bird’s eye view.

Merlin took a deep breath and whispered the incantation. Newly learnt spells usually never worked the first time, but he’d been getting better at it, more powerful. He used all his concentration and magical energy to separate his mind from his body and search for the perfect animal.

He knew the instant he’d left his physical form. It was a floaty, detached feeling. He panicked for a moment at the wrongness of it, his essence slipping away from his being. It was a dangerous game he was playing, not too different from what Cornelius Sigan had done when he possessed Cedric and then tried to possess Merlin. But Merlin wasn’t possessing another human. Dabbling in dark magic was bad enough, and there were some lines he didn’t cross. No, he’d simply briefly possess a bird, look around the fortress, then come back to his body.

Focusing his magic when outside his body was hard, but he’d done it once and he could do it again, he was certain. He concentrated again on the spell, ghosted over Arthur’s resting form, waved a glowing blue tail at Aithusa, and slipped from the cave. As soon as he was outside, he shifted his mind’s eye to the sky, searching.

He saw three of them, three black birds flying across the blue expanse. One moment he was down at the cave entrance, a disembodied trail of blue light, and the next he was soaring along with them, in the body of a raven and flapping his wings to stay aloft.

Merlin panicked again, his little raven heart beating quickly in his chest. He didn’t know how to fly, how wings worked to ride the air currents, and he nearly dropped from the sky. He wobbled, flying drunkenly in aimless patterns, while his two companions went on without him. He was doing enough to keep from plummeting, but only just.

Then, as though everything had finally clicked into place, he realised suddenly what to do. He straightened out on his course and was flying smoothly over the white landscape.

Had he the ability, he probably would’ve laughed with relief, then again in amazement. The view was beautiful up here, and his feathers did wonders to keep him warm. He opened his mouth and was surprised when a throaty caw came out; he was even more surprised when one of the ravens who’d flown off without him responded with a caw of his own.

If it were any other time, he would’ve flown around the whole valley, over the hills, and across the forests. However, he had a task to perform, and he shifted his weight to steer his body toward the fortress, dipping his wings beneath the air current to drop lower in the sky.

Merlin thought briefly about going inside the fortress in this form, but decided against it. It might be too obviously magic, a raven skulking around the stone corridors. He’d stick to scouting the outside as best he could, and hoping Morgana’s bedroom had a window.

Most of the windows were covered with heavy black curtains, which Merlin reluctantly admitted made sense given the weather. The first window he found free looked into a great hall, and he nearly fell over trying to land. His claws skidded across stone and he flapped his wings awkwardly to get his balance again. He’d wondered why Aithusa always had trouble landing and had a newfound appreciation of the effort and concentration it took.

The window was near the top of the hall, looking down on the left side of the throne. Morgana wasn’t there, but Merlin recognised it as the place where Aithusa and she must have sat to welcome visitors. There were guards roaming around now, men in armour more suited to the climate than Arthur’s with short-swords at their waists. Merlin watched for a few minutes, but they mostly seemed to be doing the same thing guards always did—passing the time with each other until an authority figure came by and they snapped back to their positions.

Turning around in a bit of a waddle, Merlin faced outward again. He launched himself into the air and flew around the building searching for more open windows. One looked into a spiral stairwell, and another into a long room with six beds, presumably to house six of the Saxons. Merlin was about to fly off, away from the latter, when the door opened and two hulking men came in.

“I’ve had it with that dimwitted, ill-bred, traitorous dolt!” one exclaimed angrily.

The other gave him a long-suffering look and sat on one of the beds, reaching under to grab something. His hand reappeared with a wineskin, and he took a long sip. Merlin noticed the smoothness of his skin, his clean-shaven jaw and bright eyes, and figured that he was not only more mature, but younger. Or perhaps he was just the quiet type who preferred drinking to ranting about his problems.

After a few angry paces around the room, the older, more rugged one stopped and spun around. “Ruadan will never see sense. He’ll get us all killed working for this crazy sorceress. I’m leaving. Soon.”

Merlin perked his ears up and waddled a bit closer. Ruadan was a new name. These men were indeed Saxons, that much was obvious by the red serpent on their armour. Ruadan had to be their commander. But was he important? Was it worth it trying to gain information about him if he may very well lose interest in Morgana’s campaign once she was dead?

There had to be something Morgana promised him to get him to put his men at her disposal. Most likely it was simply land and power, things Arthur would give him gladly, but probably not to the degree he wanted. Arthur wanted to unite all the kingdoms, have everyone live in peace, but that also meant everyone had less to themselves, meant sharing with others. If Ruadan was working with Morgana, it was because he wanted his Saxons to rule.

Merlin cocked his head as the back and forth of conversation reached his ears, but he was mostly contemplating. Should he kill Ruadan? Let someone with less ambition take over? Or simply do what he’d came to do and slice Morgana out of the picture, let the rest of the pieces fall where they may?

“Look, there’s a bird at the window!” the younger Saxon exclaimed. His finger was swaying, giving away his drunkenness.

As soon as the older, disgruntled Saxon turned around, Merlin hurriedly flew off. He’d think about what to do with Ruadan later; maybe Aithusa had more information about him. Right now, he needed to find another window.

It was getting on noon now, the sun already higher in the sky. Merlin had to have circled the fortress at least two dozen times by now, and none of the windows that were open were in informative places. Finally settling on the highest one, at least to rest his wings, he found the curtains not black, but red, and even more surprisingly, found them the slightest bit drawn, allowing him to poke his beak through and slide his head in.

He froze the instant he saw what he’d looked in on. Only fate would have him choose Morgana’s bedroom window while she was lying naked in bed, atop heavy, crimson covers, while an equally naked man lay on his stomach between her legs, face buried in her cunt. Despite the scene he was witnessing, the first thing Merlin thought was that the Pendragons do certainly like their red.

Then Merlin felt wrong—deeply, shamefully, covered in wrong. He lost himself to time and suddenly felt like the same blushing serving boy who’d walked in on Morgana while she was behind the changing screen and had mistaken him for Gwen. Only this time he was staring at Morgana arching her back off the bed and keening, her breasts shifting as she moved her body. Her long black hair fanned out over her pillow and her heels dug into the mattress. Merlin closed his beady raven eyes, but could do nothing to stop the sounds from reaching his ears.

“Mordred,” Morgana gasped.

Merlin snapped his eyes open at the name, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to hear it. In the interval, Morgana’s hand had slipped down to the head of the man between her legs and grabbed hold of his hair. Merlin guiltily eyed him up and down, trying not to think about how the last time he’d seen Mordred in the flesh he’d been but a boy. The man he saw between Morgana’s legs now, arms hooked around her thighs, wasn’t too different from Merlin himself. Lean limbs, broad back and shoulders, (a pert arse, if Merlin was being honest), long, hairy legs... Mordred was no boy now.

As if to enforce the point of Merlin’s thoughts, Mordred finished his ministrations with his mouth, leaving Morgana’s clit with a loud suck, and stroked his hard cock a few times while shuffling forward to enter her. Not once did Merlin see Mordred’s face, but the cocky smile, the crooked grin on Morgana as she looked up at him said enough. Mordred was loyal, and always would be. Merlin hated the thought of taking away someone’s love, even from someone like Morgana, but they would both have to die. There was no other way.

Merlin didn’t need to see any more. He flew away to the sound of Morgana’s throaty moans.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Returning to his body was disorienting to say the least. One moment he had wings and feathers, the next he had arms, legs, and skin. He shivered hard enough to make his teeth rattle and blinked his eyes blearily open.

He found Arthur staring at him.

He forgot for a moment that he was with Arthur as Emrys, and almost raised his hand to pull back his hood and scratch his head. His wits returned just in time. He was glad it was dark enough that Arthur couldn’t possibly see under the cloak. Even with the glow of the orb still lighting the cave, Merlin could only barely make out the planes of Arthur’s chiselled face.

“What did you do?” Arthur asked hoarsely.

Merlin had hoped he’d be able to get away with it without Arthur noticing, or at least that Arthur wouldn’t ask. He should’ve known better.

“I went to scout the fortress,” Merlin said carefully, not wanting to lie entirely. He panicked when he realised he’d forgotten to put the voice spell back up, and immediately remedied it, but Arthur didn’t seem to recognise his voice from the one slip-up.

“You can do that? Leave your body to go other places?” Arthur asked, brow furrowing.

“Sort of.”

“Why didn’t you say before? Why didn’t you use it earlier?”

Merlin fought off a chuckle, because really it wasn’t funny. Arthur simply didn’t know, and Merlin didn’t really want to tell him.

But if he didn’t tell him? Arthur already confessed he thought Emrys capable of being corrupt, remorseless, and dark-hearted. Merlin knew that wasn’t true, or at least didn’t think it was himself. If he waited to tell Arthur the truth of his actions, would that be worse?

Merlin sighed and resigned himself to whatever Arthur’s reaction would be upon hearing it.

“I can’t simply ‘leave my body to go other places’ as you put it. Or rather I _can_ separate my soul from my body and go somewhere, but not for long; it’s dangerous and possible that I wouldn’t be able to return.”

Arthur exploded. His eyes went wide and he screamed, “You did _what_?! How could you be so—”

Aithusa sprang to her feet and growled at him before he got any further. Arthur bit his lip to keep quiet, hard enough that Merlin worried it would start bleeding. When Aithusa silently slinked back down, letting Merlin rest against her again, Merlin continued.

“When I do it, I have to enter another host quickly,” he explained. “It can be anything from a chair to another human.”

“Another human,” Arthur murmured, still chewing his lip. “You put your soul in another human.”

“No,” Merlin said firmly. “I would never do that, I promise you.”

“But you can.”

“But I wouldn’t.”

“So this time?”

“A bird,” Merlin said. “I possessed a bird.”

Arthur nodded slowly, understanding. “You didn’t want me to know because it’s dark magic. Isn’t it, Emrys?”

Merlin swallowed. “Yes. I’ve told myself that a bird is fine, that it can’t be so bad if I’ve only entered an animal, but… You’re right. It’s still possession, and possession is dark magic. I’m sorry.”

Merlin waited what felt like ages for a response, and was halfway to giving up on getting one when Arthur said, “Don’t worry about it. I know you wouldn’t do such a thing if you didn’t think it was necessary. What did you find out?”

Merlin was grateful for the acceptance. Had he been talking to Arthur as Merlin, he was sure he would’ve been met with scorn and disbelief.

“The leader of the Saxons is a man named Ruadan,” he began. Arthur cut him off before he could continue.

“Ruadan? I know that name…” He frowned and pursed his lips. “I’m not sure where from, but—Oh! One of my knights mentioned him in passing once. He’s a druid traitor. The knight didn’t have any more information on him so we assumed that was all. How would a druid go about taking charge of an army?”

“The Saxons are foreign people,” Aithusa explained. Merlin repeated what she said aloud for Arthur. “There are settlements of them just like the druids. It’s possible Morgana gathered them, promising land and security, and gave control over them to Ruadan. I know the man has proven loyal, even when Morgana was in the worst of moods and lashed out.”

“Do you think we should kill him?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s eyes widened a bit. “You’re asking me?”

“Yes, I’m asking you. Killing Morgana is part of my destiny—a matter for the magical realm, you might say. Ruadan’s fate is a diplomatic move. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

Arthur nodded, suddenly serious and contemplative. “I’ll speak to him after Morgana is...dealt with. If he truly is a druid, there’s hopefully a bit of peace left in him.”

Merlin was glad to have the particular matter out of his hands, but another began to worry him. If Ruadan was a druid, was it possible that he knew Emrys’s true identity? What if Ruadan had been the one to approach Arthur and give him that terrible clue? Not in an attempt to bring about the age of magic faster, but to bring about tension in the royal court?

Merlin shook himself of the notion. If that were true, Morgana would know by now as well. She’d come after him not looking for Arthur’s annoyingly persistent serving boy, but for the powerful Emrys. No, it couldn’t have been Ruadan. As hard as it was to believe that there _were_ druids who didn’t know his true face, Merlin knew Ruadan was in the dark.

With that settled, Merlin asked, “Didn’t I tell you to rest?”

In the dim glow of the cave, Merlin saw Arthur roll his eyes. “I was a bit disturbed by the blue light slipping into your hood. Your soul, I suppose that was? Brilliant. Excuse me for caring enough to wonder what was happening.”

Merlin chuckled, honestly pleased at the care beneath Arthur’s tone. “You should rest, though. Both of us. We’ve quite a night ahead of us.”

“I know,” Arthur grumbled, getting comfortable on his side again and wrapping his cloak tighter around his shoulders. Merlin was surprised at how quickly he followed directions.

Merlin leaned further back to rest himself. He closed his eyes, then remembered. Without moving, he asked Aithusa, _What was it you wanted to tell me? You said there was something more._

“Nothing you haven’t already seen,” she replied. She nuzzled affectionately at Merlin’s hood-covered ear, a slight exhale from her nose sending a wave of warmth over him. “You know now where Morgana’s room is.”

_Yes. I saw her with Mordred._

“Yet you didn’t tell Arthur.”

_In bed with Mordred, I mean. Arthur doesn’t need to think of his sister in such a position, and regardless, they were hardly discussing anything important. It will be hard to get to the top of the fortress, though._

“She won’t remain idle in her chambers when she learns who’s attacking. I’m certain she will come to seek you out.”

_Hmm, yes, I suppose she’s like Arthur that way. Headstrong and confident._

“There is one thing I would like to say, if I may, my lord.”

_Of course, Aithusa._

“I think this would go more smoothly if you told Arthur the truth beforehand.”

Merlin froze, then curled in on himself, ducking under Aithusa’s wing.

Merlin thought he heard Aithusa sigh, but couldn’t be sure. Perhaps she was simply exhaling.

“Very well. I will wake you when the sun has set.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur didn’t want to open his eyes when the time had finally come. He was deep asleep, had been dozing better than any night so far on their journey, but when Merlin hauled him forward by his shoulders and he finally sat up, he was wider awake than ever.

“We have to get going,” Merlin said. The hum of voices was soft and low, and Arthur appreciated the gentle gesture. “We have a long walk ahead of us. And then much more that.”

With a sigh, Arthur pushed himself up, using the cave wall for support. He could only just barely stand straight in the small space, and Merlin, just the slightest bit taller, had to stand with his head down. They gathered up their things, holding their cloaks tight to keep out the wind, and left.

At the mouth of the cave, finally under the starry blanket of night, Merlin turned and told Aithusa to stay behind and only come if he called her. Arthur eyed the horses and hoped Aithusa would see to them somehow while they were gone. He knew they longed for Camelot and home as much as he did.

He used the long walk up to the fortress to prepare his mind and body for battle. He had his leather gloves, but they were more for protection against his sword’s grip than against the cold. He didn’t even want to think about how Merlin would fare, whom he couldn’t help but consider unarmed, even when he knew it not to be true. If anything, Merlin was more well-equipped than him.

Merlin was also better at sneaking than Arthur usually gave him credit for. Though he was a buffoon when they went out hunting, he was light on his feet and quick to react now. Every so often he’d have the two of them stop and crouch behind a mound of snow while he sought the path ahead, searching for signs of anyone having noticed them.

Had that, too, been an act, his supposed clumsiness? Part of the image? Arthur watched Merlin move gracefully in the cloak, his sure footsteps and flowing movements, and figured that perhaps it was. He felt another quick pang of hurt in his chest—then when they darted from behind a snow-mound once more and Merlin tripped on his cloak, landing on his knee and swearing under his breath, Arthur smirked and thought perhaps it wasn’t so feigned after all.

The fortress was well-lit with torches. Arthur’s heart beat quicker as they approached, and he began to sweat under the layers of his fur cloak, but he knew this feeling of anticipation. He knew Merlin did, too, as many times as he had accompanied him on dangerous missions. Gripping the pommel of his sword beneath his cloak as he watched Merlin expertly navigate them around the base of the structure, Arthur saw Merlin was more acquainted with the feeling than he realised. He was, however, past the point of being surprised.

There was a moment of panic when they entered the underground tunnels and almost ran straight into two Saxon guards. Merlin was quick and pulled Arthur aside, dragging him down to crouch beside the stone wall.

“I hate coming down here,” one said gruffly to his companion. Their voices were harsh and strange to Arthur’s ears. “It’s like you can feel all that raw magic in the air. Gives me chills.”

“I know what you mean,” the other said. “You seen how their eyes glow? Fucking weird, if you ask me.”

“Don’t let the Queen hear you say that,” the first warned. “I agree, though.”

By the time they passed Merlin and Arthur, they’d gone into what they were going to eat later that night, and how much they’d have to pay Borin for some of his mead. Arthur thought for certain they’d see them crouching there, as there was nothing to hide them, but they walked right past without a pause in their conversation.

“I cast a glamour,” Merlin whispered. Arthur’s face must have shown his confusion. He let go of Arthur’s cloak—Arthur noticed for the first time how Merlin was gripping it—then waved for him to keep following.

Deeper into the tunnels, the walls were no longer stone. The path dipped, delving further into the earth, and they passed a series of training rooms, most of which were empty. Arthur found the Saxon guards had been right; the air crackled with magic down here and unsettled him. He kept expecting something to burst into flames or a lightning strike to appear from nowhere.

It seemed to be a maze. All the tunnels looked the same. Merlin seemed to be leading with only a sort of magical second sight to guide them.

Suddenly, Merlin halted, and Arthur nearly crashed into him. They were still in a slight crouch, their legs bent a little at the knees. When Merlin’s legs bent even more, and he leaned against the wall as though trying to disappear into it, Arthur knew he’d seen something.

He wanted to ask what it was, but didn’t dare speak. He envied Aithusa who could speak to Merlin without words. He also didn’t dare take a step forward to peer over Merlin’s shoulder, lest whatever Merlin saw caught a glimpse of him. He could do nothing but tighten his hold on his sword, readying himself for battle.

Merlin stood to full height and pressed himself flush against the wall, or as flush as he could given the tunnels were a bit curved. Arthur followed suit instinctively, still not saying a word, though unhappy about not being in the lead.

“Draw your sword,” Merlin said under his breath. “Slowly.”

Arthur’s heart raced as he slowly slid Excalibur from its sheath. The sound of sliding metal was loud to his ears, and he prayed no one else heard it.

He kept it at his side once it was fully drawn, the tip pointed down. He was strung taut now, ready for anything. He would attack whoever, _whatever_ , Merlin told him to.

It happened quickly. One moment they were pressed against the wall, waiting for someone, hiding from someone—Arthur didn’t know. The next, Merlin had a dark-haired man in a chokehold, his arm wrapped around the man’s neck in a way Arthur had done to Merlin many times, albeit in a way that was a bit more friendly. The man was croaking, trying to protest and cry out, but Merlin kept his hold firm. He guided him through the tunnel they were in to the nearest empty room—which happened to be a storage room—and Arthur simply followed, unaware of what exactly was happening.

Many of the rooms down here didn’t have doors, but this one did, complete with a lock. Arthur attributed it to its being a storage room—shelves and shelves of materials were kept in here, from staves to mortars and pestles. After magicking the bolt over the door closed, Merlin dragged the captured man to the back. Finally Arthur got a look at the man’s face.

He didn’t expect to see the druid.

“You!” Arthur exclaimed, breaking his silence at last.

The man glared at Merlin briefly, then, brushing the front of his dark blue tunic, offered Arthur a smile. “Yes, me. A surprise to see the two of you here. How _did_ you find this place, Emrys?”

Merlin ignored the druid and turned to look at Arthur, his face still hidden in the hood. “You know him?” his voice was as full of surprise as Arthur’s had been upon seeing him.

“We’ve only met once. He’s the druid who told me about you. He didn’t say he was working with Morgana.” Arthur turned to pin the man with his gaze. “You didn’t say you were working with Morgana.”

At this the man’s smile widened into more of what Arthur would call a leer. “We’ve met more than once, Arthur.”

Merlin shoved him back and pinned him against the wall. “You’re done speaking to him. Before I kill you, tell me why you betrayed me.”

“Betrayed you? I’ve always been loyal to you, Emrys, and I always will.”

Arthur’s head hurt. He didn’t like being confused, but he saw that to get in the way now wouldn’t help clear things up.

“Then why are you here?” Merlin asked. “Other than the fact that you’re bedding Morgana.”

Arthur gaped. Who was this man? He’d looked unassuming enough when he’d approached Arthur in the forest, simply another druid, but here he was clad in silk shirts and well-made boots. His dark hair was a little mussed from Merlin’s earlier treatment, but it was clean and brushed. There was something in his eyes, though, something mischievous and yet familiar.

And he was liked by Morgana enough to be allowed into her bed?

“I’m not sure how you figured that out, but I assure you I have no feelings for Morgana,” he explained, suddenly serious. “I take pleasure in her body and that is all. She cares for me while I care not a whit for her.”

“Why should I believe that when you’ve already gone behind my back and told Arthur of my existence?”

The man chuckled nervously. “I told Arthur because you needed a nudge. No offence, my lord. I’ve been with Morgana for months now. She was advancing, and you were running out of time. Things needed to be sped along.”

He glanced from Merlin to Arthur, and back again, then frowned. “He still doesn’t know, does he? Your voice...you’re disguising it. And your hood—”

“Quiet.”

Arthur had had enough. “Emrys, who is this? I know him as the druid, but who is he really?”

“Do you still not remember?” he asked cheekily. “Years ago, you helped me escape—”

“You said you would never forgive me,” Merlin interjected. Arthur wanted to smack him; he was so close to finally understanding. “When we attacked the druid camp, you said you would never forget it.”

The druid sighed in exasperation. “Could you please stop holding me against this wall? I won’t attack, I’ve already told you I’m loyal to you.”

Reluctantly, Merlin lowered his hands from the man’s shoulders.

“I was young,” the druid continued. “We say things we don’t mean when we’re young, don’t we? Act out in anger? I’m sure you understand. I swear to you, Emrys, I’m no follower of Morgana. I may use her body the way I wish, but I would see her dead.” Suddenly he dropped to a kneel, on one knee with his head bowed in respect. “I’m yours to command, my lord.”

Arthur reached his limit. He pulled Merlin aside by the sleeve and demanded, “Who is this man?”

Merlin sighed. “This is Mordred.”

Arthur felt his world turn on its head. Flashes of remembrance shot through his mind—his father’s unreasonableness, hiding the boy where he couldn’t be found, the escape through the sewers. That their paths would intersect again in such a way…

Looking up, Mordred smiled again, his eyes twinkling. “You see now how our fates have been intertwined since that day, King Arthur. But do you know the other side of your coin? Your Emrys?”

Arthur tilted his chin defiantly, clenching his jaws. Merlin, beside him, was a silent figure, hiding in the shadow of his cloak. Mordred had had the strength to bare his identity, and yet Merlin still had not. Still he remained hiding away, like the coward Arthur always jokingly called him.

“I do,” Arthur said.

Mordred grinned. Merlin, however, took a step back. “You do?”

Arthur turned to him and stared directly into the hood, where he was suddenly certain the eyes were looking back at him full of terror. “Merlin.”

Seconds of silence dragged on, but Arthur never let his gaze waver. Slowly, Merlin raised a pale, trembling hand to his hood. Arthur held his breath, waiting.

His first thought upon seeing Merlin was that he looked worn down. His skin was more pasty than normal, his dry lips cracked, and his ridiculous ears still a little red from the cold air outside. His hair was unkempt, dark brown strands sticking out in all directions, but it was his eyes that caught Arthur’s attention the most. They were the same striking blue Arthur remembered, with the same quiet wiseness in them, but now creased with worry, fatigue, sorrow. As Arthur stared back at him, water pooled at the bottom, making his eyes glisten, until finally it overflowed and fell down his cheeks.

“How long have you known?” Merlin asked. It was his lover’s true voice Arthur heard, raspy and full of choked emotion.

“Since the last time I met Emrys in the forest.”

“The night you came back angry.”

Arthur nodded.

Merlin staggered a bit and leaned against a shelf for support. “I’m...I’m so sorry, Arthur—”

“I know.”

“I was going to tell you, so many times I wanted to tell you—”

“I wish you had. But there’s no use wishing now. You had your reasons for keeping your secrets, and you thought they were valid.”

Arthur knew better than anyone what such things did to people. His father had had reasons for slaughtering thousands of innocent people, reasons which he thought were valid. There was nothing anyone could have said that would’ve swayed his beliefs that magic was evil. Arthur knew that sometimes people were trapped by their own mind. It was unfortunate, but he knew.

“Perhaps they were weak near the end, but I understand,” he continued. Merlin’s face was twisted in grief now, despite Arthur’s words. “You thought I would hate you. You thought I wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of you. And you were right. For the first few days, I couldn’t stand to be in your presence, knowing you had lied to me and were still lying to me. It hurt just to see you, to think of you. But sending you away, never seeing you again… I could never have done such a thing, and you should’ve known that. You should’ve known I can’t live without you, even for a day, no matter how angry I am.”

Arthur walked across the room, still aware of Mordred’s presence but ignoring him for now. He carefully thumbed away Merlin’s tears, brushed down Merlin’s hair, and held his face in his hands.

“Merlin. You are an absolute idiot. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.”

Merlin laughed a little breathlessly. It was obvious he still couldn’t believe Arthur wasn’t yelling, that Arthur hadn’t said he hated him. Though there’d been plenty of times when Arthur _had_ wanted to yell, to punch Merlin’s arm until it was purple, it was worth not having done so now, if only to see the relief on Merlin’s face. He really had thought Arthur would banish him or start ignoring him or some other such punishment, and it was important that Merlin see he would never do any of those things. Entertain the idea? Certainly. But carry them out? He knew he’d regret it.

Merlin exhaled and closed his eyes, letting his head fall to rest against Arthur’s. “You have no idea how glad I am,” he said softly. “I was worried you’d have me massaging your muscles as soon as you returned home and I’d have to hide how tired I myself was.”

“We’re going to eat and sleep and sit in the bath for days when we get home,” Arthur said fondly. “But first we have to kill my sister.”

Merlin nodded and straightened his spine. He wiped at his face a moment, then turned to face Mordred, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Tell me everything,” Merlin said.

Mordred got to his feet and brushed himself off again. “I initially came to Morgana planning to use her as a backup plan. I believed—still believe—in the prophecy, but if there was a chance you failed, and Arthur continued to reject magic, I wanted a secure position on this side.

“I became aware of Morgana’s interest in me early on, and in such a cold environment, it wasn’t long before she suggested we should share heat. I’ve lain with her practically since I arrived here, and she’s quite taken with me. When I realised, I began using it to my advantage should you ever have need of me; she tells me things she wouldn’t breathe a word of to others, she takes my advice, and holds me in the highest regard. I use my position to gather information for you and help steer things to the way I believe you would have wanted.

“That’s how I came to be in charge of the acolytes, her recruited sorcerers. After her, I’m the most powerful here, and I spend hours a day training them. What Morgana doesn’t know is that I also tell them the story of Emrys, the same story I heard growing up. They know of Emrys as the one Morgana fears, the one she mutters under her breath about, but also as the saviour of magic, the conduit of the gods. They know Morgana is a false Queen, and they are loyal only to me; therefore, in turn, to you.”

Arthur tilted his head, looking at Merlin, who was still a bit worse for wear. “Conduit of the gods?” he echoed.

Mordred nodded excitedly, evidently eager for a reason to share the story again. “Uther very nearly succeeded in driving magic from the world during the Great Purge, so three years after your birth, the Goddess formed a plan to save it. They imbued a child with their power—power over life and death, power over time, power over the sea, the sky, the earth. The baby was to grow up as the most powerful sorcerer in the land, the one who would ensure magic thrived by guiding the king’s son. Emrys has the power of the Great Goddess herself at his disposal.”

Arthur was even more in awe than before. Mordred had explained most of it to him the first time they’d met—or rather, the second time, Arthur supposed—but he’d said nothing of the religion behind it. His Merlin had the power of the gods inside him? He was born to be Arthur’s guide?

“Mordred is a bit of a fanatic,” Merlin said, looking at Arthur sheepishly. “I’m powerful but I wouldn’t call myself a conduit of the gods. I’m just a man, really.”

Mordred shrugged. “Whatever you wish, my lord.”

“More importantly—Where is Morgana?” Merlin asked.

“Now? She’s sleeping. Nearly everyone is sleeping.”

“Can you lead us to her? Is there a way to get to her chambers without being seen?”

Mordred pursed his lips with thought. “Not the whole way, no. Once you reach the fourth level, there’s a narrow staircase that goes directly to a secret chamber in her room. I’ve used it many times, for discretion. The trick will be to get from here to the stairs.”

Arthur began taking off his fur cloak. “We’ll draw less attention without these on,” he explained to Merlin. Merlin began doing the same.

Mordred nodded in agreement. “There’s a chest over here I can store your things in. In fact…” He disappeared among the shelves, rummaging through a chest on the other side of the room. He returned with an armful of deep purple fabric. “If you wear these acolyte robes, you’ll be able to walk through without raising suspicion. No one here knows what King Arthur looks like. You’ll be taken for one of mine.”

Arthur didn’t like it. He didn’t like the entire espionage business to begin with, but he particularly didn’t like this. The only other way through would be to fight, and though he usually wasn’t averse to such a tactic, he knew he didn’t have the strength or numbers for it now. At least this way he wouldn’t die.

Merlin took the robes. “Thank you, Mordred. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… When this is over, and when magic is no longer banned, I hope you’ll consider coming to Camelot.” He glanced at Arthur to make certain the request was alright and Arthur nodded.

Mordred smiled. “Of course, my lord. Where else would my acolytes and I go?”

That reminded Arthur of another matter as he changed into the purple monstrosity. “What do you know about Ruadan? Would you say he’s a threat?” he asked.

Mordred shook his head. “He’s nothing without Morgana’s guidance. His army is small and I’ve no doubt you could crush them if it ever came to it. He’s arrogant and believes himself unstoppable. He’ll oppose you, but dealing with him, especially with Emrys at your side, will be simple.”

Arthur looked forward to it. Combat on the battlefield was something he knew, something he was comfortable with. He could command his men and carry out strategy as easy as breathing. Though he was a good hunter, sneaking around like a cutthroat assassin wasn’t exactly honourable.

With their personal items stored away and the purple robes adorned, hoods up to hide their faces, Mordred led them through the maze of tunnels to an entrance into the fortress. The stone corridors were dimly lit and oppressive, especially so late at night without the usual activity Arthur suspected occurred during the day. The hulking guards they did pass patrolled slowly and wearily, and were sluggish even in their acknowledgment of Mordred as “my lord.” To Arthur and Merlin they hardly paid attention, as they were seemingly simple acolytes coming back from a late night training session with their mentor.

Once they reached the fourth level, there was a bit more activity, and Arthur’s pulse quickened as he heard the familiar sounds of men enjoying themselves. They hurried past a string of rooms in which Saxons were drinking and singing, the raucous noise spilling out into the corridor.

“Stop!”

Mordred halted, and Arthur reluctantly stopped in his tracks as well. Merlin was the first to turn and see who’d called out to them.

The Saxon was obviously drunk, and stumbled toward them from the open wooden door. Arthur resisted the urge to put his hand on his hidden sword and he noticed Merlin tense beside him.

“What is it, Arin?” Mordred asked icily.

Arin stepped closer, bringing the stench of his breath with him, and peered under Arthur and Merlin’s hoods. Arthur took a step back, glaring at the man, and hoped he hadn’t been recognised.

Arin grunted. “Was hoping it was two pretty sorceresses-in-training you were prowling the corridors with. The Queen may be willing to spread her legs for you, but the rest of us are a bit...unsatisfied.” he finished with a quirk of his brow.

“Speak to me that way again and I’ll make you swallow your tongue,” Mordred warned. “And what have I said about harassing my acolytes?”

Arin appeared not to hear it. He was looking more intently at Merlin, eyes full of lust. “I’m willing to make do, however. I like the lips on this one.”

Arthur suppressed a growl, and further resisted the urge to pull Merlin away from the odious man. Mordred shot him a look, warning him not to interfere and possibly give themselves away.

Merlin, however, smiled. Arthur recognised it as the same expression he got when he was thinking of something rather wicked and mischievous. He saw Merlin’s lips move as he whispered something under his breath, and his eyes shone gold. It was the first time Arthur had seen Merlin perform magic—as Merlin anyway. He never thought he’d see his lover’s eyes flash the same way a sorcerer’s did.

Almost immediately after, Arin’s spine straightened and his hand flew to his groin. He looked down, then back up, eyes wide. “What did you do to me?”

“It’s only a rash. It should clear up in a few days,” Merlin said cheerfully. “Hopefully it’ll take your mind off your dissatisfaction.”

“Why you—”

“Sleep.” Merlin put a hand to Arin’s temple and the man’s eyes rolled back in his head as he went limp, falling to the ground.

“Let’s go,” Mordred said, turning on his heels. Merlin turned and followed, while Arthur lagged behind, still trying to reconcile Merlin forcefully putting someone to sleep with the Merlin he thought he knew.

The stair that led up to Morgana’s chambers was at the end of the corridor behind a locked wooden door reinforced with iron. Mordred looked around before pulling out a key and turning it in the lock.

The stairway was indeed narrow, and spiralled all the way to the top of the fortress. Mordred handed Merlin the key, but Merlin looked at him, puzzled.

“Why would I need a key?”

Mordred cracked a smile. “Morgana’s no fool. Look on the back of the door.”

Arthur followed Merlin into the stairwell to look. There was a symbol carved into the wood—a rune, though Arthur had no idea what it meant.

“I see,” Merlin said.

“What does it mean?” Arthur instantly hated that he’d asked. He hated that he appeared ignorant on the matter.

“The door can’t be unlocked with magic,” Merlin explained. “Only this key.”

“Lucky that we ran into Mordred, then, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t call that running into me,” Mordred muttered, rubbing at his throat.

“I did have a plan…” Merlin said. Arthur could tell by the tone that that was likely false, though.

“You had a quarter of a plan at best,” Arthur said.

“Three quarters.”

“Half.”

“We would’ve been fine either way.”

“Which of course you can’t know for sure.”

“And now you won’t have to find out,” Mordred interrupted, smiling. “Best be getting on, don’t you think?”

“Yes, don’t you think, _Mer_ lin?”

Merlin took a moment to glare at him, then turned to Mordred. “Thank you, Mordred. I’ll call for you when it’s over.”

Mordred bowed, then stepped back and closed the door behind him. Merlin sighed and looked back to Arthur.

“I want you to stay here.”

Arthur was taken aback. “What?”

“Wait for me here, at the bottom of the—”

“Either you’re joking or you’ve gone mad. I didn’t come all this way with you just to be told to wait here! Did you really think I’d do such a thing?”

Merlin frowned and sighed again as he dropped his eyes. “I was hoping. You shouldn’t have to watch me kill your sister.”

Arthur growled with frustration. “I want to do it myself, but I know you think me too weak.”

“I don’t want that burden put on you.”

“So this is it to be another burden you take on yourself? Why do you insist—”

Quicker than Arthur could blink, Merlin had pulled Excalibur from Arthur’s side and held it firmly in his own hand. With that look of determination on his face, Arthur had to admit he certainly didn’t look ridiculous with a sword now.

“I didn’t want you to have to see me that way, Arthur, but just let me do what I do, will you? I won’t try to stop you, but I don’t want you getting in the way either,” Merlin said. “Past this point I really do have a plan of how I’d like things to go.”

Arthur pushed down the wave of emotions overcoming him—Gods, was fear really among them?—and stared hard back at Merlin. “Fine. It’s been you all along after all. You brought us this far, you finish it. At least now you aren’t lying about it.”

Hurt flashed across Merlin’s face, but Arthur didn’t feel the least bit sorry. He brushed past Merlin and began ascending the stairs. If Merlin thought he could keep calling the shots while Arthur remained complacent, he was sorely mistaken. After all this time, Arthur had had just about enough.

“Come on,” he threw over his shoulder, “we’ve got a witch to kill.”

The spiralling stair seemed to go on forever. Arthur felt naked without his sword, and tried to get it back from Merlin when they were halfway there, but it was something on which Merlin wouldn’t budge. Arthur tried snatching it quickly, only for Merlin to jump down a step and shake his head apologetically.

When they reached the top, the weight of what they were about to do fell on Arthur at last. He saw the door, with its iron hinges and whorling patterns in the rough wood, and what lay on the other side seemed suddenly terrible. He thought of all the times Morgana and he had laughed together, or—more often than not—quarrelled. He remembered seeing her stick her tongue out at him when he was practising archery, and scaring her by shooting an arrow past her head. He saw again that Merlin was right. Of course he was right; there was no way Arthur could open this door and slay the woman sleeping in the bed on the other side.

 _She took my kingdom_ , Arthur reminded himself, clenching his fists. _She’ll kill me and take it for good if she’s not stopped. No use being sentimental now. It’s as Merlin said. She’s been consumed by hatred._

Merlin stood beside him, raising his left hand to place on his shoulder, but then thought better of it and let it drop. He wouldn’t do such a thing if they were standing on a battlefield about to charge into the melee, after all, as it most certainly wasn’t the time for such comforting touches. Despite himself, Arthur found he liked that Merlin had thought to do the gesture at all. Seeing the look of hardened resolve and fierce determination on Merlin’s face now, it was nice to know his kind Merlin was still there underneath.

Not a word passed between them, but when Arthur met Merlin’s eyes, they said enough. The key here was stealth and silence, speed and surreptitiousness. One misstep could alert the whole fortress. Though Arthur’s nature longed for him to take charge, he knew it was prudent to continue to follow Merlin’s lead. And anyway, with Merlin’s secret exposed, there would be plenty of time on the journey back to bully him again.

Merlin produced the key Mordred had given him and slowly put it in the lock. Arthur held his breath as the sound of it fitting in and turning pierced the quiet of the stair. Merlin’s hand was pale and white with dirt under his fingernails as he gently pushed the door open.

The room wasn’t too lavish, certainly nothing like the chambers Morgana had had in Camelot. More than anything it was an obvious attempt to make the tower room _appear_ royal—heavy crimson curtains over the single window to the left; a large, ornate rug in the centre of the stone floor; gold and silver treasures scattered over various surfaces; and of course the bed, no doubt the largest in the entire fortress, adorned with a spread that matched the curtains. The bed was situated with the headboard against the right wall, facing the window, and was a straight shot from the door in which Arthur and Merlin stood. In it, lying on her side with her back to them, was Morgana.

Seeing her made Arthur’s blood rush. All he stood for, all he had, his entire kingdom, was being attacked by this one woman with a vendetta. Yet with her asleep and seemingly innocent in this bed, Arthur wondered whether there might be hope for reconciliation after all. Pendragons weren’t known for sitting down and allowing the other to talk, and it was only from years of practiced patience that Arthur surpassed his father at such a skill, but perhaps it was possible that Morgana could see reason. He was going to bring magic back to Albion—wasn’t that what she wanted? Couldn’t she put aside this grudge she was determined to hold for the benefit of all?

Before Arthur could make up his mind about what to do, Merlin had slinked out of his borrowed cloak, letting it drop noiselessly to the floor, and slipped forward into the shadows to the right of the door. Arthur stood frozen for a moment, unsure if he should follow, but then stepped into the room as well, heading the opposite way to take up the other side. He found a short-sword on a table and carefully picked it up.

It was hard to make out the shape of Morgana’s sleeping form in the darkness of the room. Every now and then a particularly heavy breeze would make the curtains sway, and moonlight would spill into the chamber, but mostly there was no illumination to speak of, only varying shades of black. Merlin, too, was nothing but a shadowy figure, reminiscent of the time he’d disguised himself as Emrys in the forest. He was much more man-shaped now, firmer in definition and less vague. Arthur watched with a racing heart each step Merlin took closer to the bed, Excalibur raised in his right hand, like the assassin he’d often compared Emrys to.

Morgana shuffled in her sleep, a length of the covers falling away to expose her face. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttered. It would be just their luck for Merlin’s clumsiness to kick in at this moment, ruining everything. But as Arthur watched from the opposite side of the bed, oscillating his gaze between Merlin and his sister’s sleeping face, he saw it was impossible for Merlin to make such a mistake now—he was too focused, too in control.

Morgana’s brow furrowed in sleep; her lip twitched. What was she dreaming of? Arthur wondered. Was it a nice dream Merlin would be cutting short? Was it the sort of dream one wouldn’t mind going off to?

Perhaps it was best this way, Arthur realised. If there was any way Arthur would wish his sister to die, it would be in her sleep, where she had the luxury of being unaware she was dying.

Arthur was so enraptured in Morgana’s sleeping face that he hardly registered Merlin had raised Excalibur higher, bringing his other hand to the grip to hold more firmly. A gust of wind blew the curtains and light shimmered off the blade, the point suddenly appearing sharper than Arthur had ever seen it.

He tried to search Merlin’s eyes for some flicker of emotion before the deed was done, but couldn’t quite make out the definite features of his lover’s face in the dark.

The sword descended swiftly, and Arthur winced despite being a hardened warrior himself. His first thought was that he was impressed with Merlin’s apparent skill—the blow had been impeccably aimed into her abdomen and with incredible force. His next was that Morgana wasn’t dead yet, couldn’t be if she’d just gasped awake.

Merlin was quick to react, quicker than Arthur, who’d only taken a single step forward as Merlin leapt onto the bed. He straddled Morgana and got a slender hand around her throat before she could make a noise, the sword still lodged in her stomach. She tilted her head back and made a gurgling, death rattle sound, desperate for air that Merlin wouldn’t give.

“Mer...lin,” she croaked. Her arms came up to fight him off, but were too weak to be of any use.

Eyes locked with hers, Merlin gave a sudden brutal twist of the sword, and blood poured from Morgana’s lips, her face contorted in agony. Her arms dropped and Arthur knew soon the light would be gone from her eyes entirely.

“No. Emrys,” Merlin said. He pushed her back flat to the bed and wrenched the sword free. Blood dripped down the side, one drop, then another, and by the third Morgana was no longer breathing.

Merlin climbed off the bed and wiped the blade. Arthur walked to the centre of the room and regarded Morgana’s corpse, half expecting to see it rise again.

“Is that all?” he asked. He took care to make his voice steady, though inwardly he felt anything but.

Merlin’s voice was cold when he answered, and Arthur realised why Merlin hadn’t wanted him to see him do this. “That’s all it should’ve been. That’s the reason we did it this way.” He came over to Arthur and held out Excalibur, finally releasing it back to him. “A blade forged in the dragon’s breath. The only thing that can kill a High Priestess of the Old Religion. And me, in case you were wondering.”

Arthur took the sword back and sheathed it. He felt there was something else missing, something they were forgetting.

“I’ve told Mordred it’s done,” Merlin said, picking up his dropped cloak and putting it on. “We can teleport back to the tunnels to retrieve our things.”

“Why didn’t we do that in the first place?”

“I can only teleport to places I’ve been. I was here earlier today, but it’s also a bit tricky, and I’ve never done it with another person before. I didn’t want to take the risk. I think we should be fine teleporting back, though.”

“And what about Ruadan? What will happen when the Saxons discover her?”

“I can only assume they’ll disband and go back to the settlements they were in before. That or try to take on Camelot by themselves. We both know how that’ll end. I trust Mordred to take care of things here where necessary.”

“You do? After you were so certain he was allied with Morgana?”

Merlin shrugged. Arthur was glad to see the normal human gesture after his earlier indifferent expression. “Prophecies are funny things. Not too different from visions of the future, actually. Sometimes they come true, sometimes they don’t, sometimes only parts of them do. They’re mostly guidelines, I think, rough outlines of the actual story. It was clear Mordred’s fate laid with ours, but where exactly was a little blurry.”

“And Morgana’s fate?”

Merlin sighed and looked at the bed. “Her fate was my doing. I blame myself for what she became.”

Arthur wanted to know how Merlin could possibly feel that way, but decided to save it for another time. He was suddenly incredibly tired and wanted to be as far away from this place as possible.

“We should go,” he said.

Merlin nodded and stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s waist. Arthur stiffened, unsure what the meaning of it was, then remembered. He heard Merlin whisper an incantation under his breath, but was too mesmerised by Merlin’s face and glowing eyes to pay much attention to it. As Merlin’s image started to fade, Arthur wrapped both his arms around Merlin’s waist as well, returning the embrace.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was worried the whole journey back. He couldn’t help feeling he’d got off too easily, and that any minute Arthur would snap and burst his eardrums with his shouting. He worried that Arthur wouldn’t be able to look at him the same way after seeing him kill Morgana. He worried about the horses. He worried about what everyone back in Camelot was doing, what they made of the King’s sudden disappearance.

Finally, on the last leg of their journey, when Camelot’s highest towers were on the horizon, Arthur put at least one of Merlin’s worries to rest. He kicked Merlin’s foot as they ate roasted rabbit by the fire and snapped, “Quit acting like that, like I’ll stab you in the back when you least expect it. I’m not... _as_ angry with you as I was before.”

Merlin felt relief flood his limbs. The closer to Camelot they got, the more anxious he’d found himself getting, and it was good to be able to put himself at ease. Arthur wouldn’t say such a thing unless he meant it.

“Although,” Arthur said warningly, “if you lie to me about something like that again, I’ll banish you no matter what your reasons are.”

Merlin swallowed. “Seems fair.”

“Anything else you’d like to share, while we’re on the topic?”

“Hmm…” Merlin thought. He didn’t really have any other big secrets, did he? All the little things he’d done over the years he would tell Arthur later for certain, but something Arthur might banish him for? “The other dragon, the one who attacked Camelot?”

“What about it?”

“He’s mine, too. In a sense.”

Arthur hardly looked surprised, and leaned back against the tree, tossing aside the bones of rabbit. “I pieced that together the night I found out you were Emrys. You were the only one left standing when I awoke after the battle, remember?”

Merlin nodded. “I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t apologise,” Arthur said, waving it away. “If you said sorry for every little thing you’ve lied about over the years, we’d be here for days. Once should cover it all.”

Merlin clamped his mouth shut and leaned back against Aithusa. His throat was suddenly tight and he felt tension behind his eyes, but he refused to let himself cry. It hurt to hear Arthur’s curtness, but he had to remind himself that it was still a better reaction than he’d ever hoped for.

“I just wish you’d felt you could trust me,” Arthur said quietly. Merlin glanced up and saw he was frowning intently at the fire.

Merlin wasn’t sure he was still welcome or if Arthur needed more time, but he went with his instincts and crawled around the fire to curl up on Arthur, putting his head in his lap. He breathed a sigh of relief and contentment when Arthur’s hand came down to rest on his shoulder.

“I have magic.” Merlin clutched the fabric of Arthur’s trousers, but forced himself to go on, to say the words he’d been longing to say for years. “I’m Emrys. I wish I had done so many things differently.”

“You betrayed me,” Arthur said. Merlin tensed, and the words cut him deeply. “Every time we lay together was a betrayal, every time you said I could trust you—”

“That’s not true!” But Merlin knew it was; he’d told himself the same thing a thousand times.

The tears spilled over. Merlin couldn’t help it. He buried his face deeper into Arthur’s lap, grateful that at least Arthur couldn’t see.

“It is, Merlin. It’s a simple fact that won’t change. Of course I’m angry and hurt, of course it’s going to take time for me to get over it, but I’m not so unreasonable as to cast you away. I know your love isn’t a lie, I know that in many ways you really do just want to be a man like any other. I told you I understand. So stop moping about it, it’s all in the past and nothing can be done to change it.”

Merlin wiped his eyes and tried to find reassurance in Arthur’s words. It was true moping would change nothing, but Merlin couldn’t help dreading how everything between them would be tainted now. Their meals, their nights, their sex, their quiet moments in the bath…

Suppose the court caught wind of it? Merlin suddenly worried. It was already common, albeit whispered, knowledge that the King was bedding his manservant behind the Queen’s back. The new tension between them was sure to seep into their everyday behaviours and be noticeable to others. Arthur would keep Merlin at a distance or Merlin would stand a bit stiffer than usual when attending to Arthur. The rumour mill would start spinning and Merlin could only imagine what sort of things the court would come up with to give meaning to it.

Merlin didn’t want to worry about it now, though. There were too many other things to worry about, and the court gossip should’ve been the least of them. He started to get up to tend the horses, but Arthur tightened his arm around him.

Arthur didn’t say anything, but Merlin didn’t need words to understand him. It was nice to have this closeness again; comforting, even. Beneath the anger and hurt, Arthur also just wanted the simplicity of the relationship they’d had before, where they were stripped of titles and were just two men. Merlin could give that to him for a while before they had to retire for the night and finish their journey in the morning.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

They were just out of the forest surrounding the city when Merlin slowed his horse to a stop. “Wait,” he said.

Ahead of him, Arthur looked over his shoulder, the motion causing his horse to instinctively turn with him. “What is it?”

Merlin swung a leg over and hopped down. He looked at Aithusa and smiled. “Something I need to do before we get any closer.”

He took a deep breath and called forth his dragonlord voice, commanding Kilgharrah to come to him.

“Shh,” he said softly, stroking Hengroen. She’d started a bit at the power in his voice, but was now soothed.

“What’d you do?” Arthur asked, looking around a little nervously. “Not what you think you did, I hope.”

Aithusa stood on her hind legs, neck outstretched. Merlin was pleased to see her looking stronger. Kilgharrah would make her even more so, do a better job than Merlin could at raising a dragon.

“Am I to go with him?” Aithusa asked.

Merlin nodded. _Yes. It’s what I wanted for you in the first place._

“Is he...pleasant?”

_He’s alright, I suppose. A bit annoying to us humans. He’s likely to treat his own kind better._

“Will I see you again?”

Merlin grinned and put his arms around her neck. She wrapped him in her wings. _You can see me whenever you like. When magic is legal again maybe you can fly over Camelot to one of the balconies._

“Do you think the King would find that appropriate?”

Merlin stepped back. _If he doesn’t then I’ll convince him a dragon is a symbol of power and that the people should be honoured to see one so friendly in his city._

Aithusa bent her neck and touched her nose gently to Merlin’s. “You are a good man, my lord.”

At the sound of Arthur’s footsteps, Merlin separated from her. Not long after Arthur came to stand beside him, Merlin heard the beating of wings overhead. Kilgharrah soared over the trees and landed gracefully beside them, dwarfing even Aithusa with his size.

“So, young warlock. The witch is dead. You’ve taken your destiny into your own hands, I see.”

Merlin nodded. “Mordred has also sworn his loyalty to me, something else you were wrong about.”

“I made no promises, only predictions,” the Great Dragon evaded. Merlin noticed his large eyes slide to Arthur, though neither of them addressed each other.

“It’s all in motion now,” Merlin continued. “Magic will no longer be outlawed. A few druids have said they’ll migrate to Camelot as healers, and to sell their wares in the markets for any citizens who are interested. All who oppose Arthur will be defeated, but with Morgana out of the way, I think his plan to form alliances with the other kingdoms will go much more smoothly.”

“The time of Albion comes soon,” Kilgharrah observed. “Well done, Emrys.”

“I’d like you to look after Aithusa for a while.”

Kilgharrah shifted his gaze to the white dragon, who looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “It would be my pleasure. I do hope you’ll manage to locate another egg in this lifetime so that a mate may be found for her to revive our kind. I doubt you’ll be siring a child of your own to pass your powers down to?”

Merlin glanced at Arthur, cleared his throat, and looked away. “Ah, well, probably not. We’ll see.” He knew Arthur could be fiercely possessive, and he could be as well if he were being perfectly honest.

Kilgharrah chuckled and prepared to take off again, stretching his wings. They covered the area in shadow. “Until we meet again, Emrys.”

Aithusa took to the air after him. Merlin hadn’t expected to feel so unhappy to see her go, but his chest was heavy as their silhouettes grew smaller in the sky.

Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Merlin.”


	4. Chapter 4

Gwen was the first out of the castle when Merlin and Arthur rode into the citadel. The sun had just began its descent, and oranges and pinks faded into one another across the horizon, painting the stone a warm yellow. Gwen hugged Arthur the instant he was down from his horse. Merlin hadn’t been expecting the same treatment, but found himself on the receiving end of the Queen’s affectionate embrace as well.

“There’ve been whispers the entire time you two were gone,” she scolded in a low voice, one brow raised. “The King and his manservant suddenly nowhere to be found, and no one with a suitable explanation.”

“They’ll have an explanation soon enough,” Arthur said. “Morgana is dead.”

Gwen looked to Merlin for confirmation and he nodded.

“Does this mean the beast who attacked the villages has also been stopped?” she asked. “You ordered to pull the knights from patrol before you left—”

“Guinevere.” Arthur put his hands on her elbows and smiled down softly at her. “Merlin and I have had a tiring few days. We’ll speak at length tomorrow before addressing the court.”

Guinevere nodded. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

Arthur kissed her cheek before letting go and signaling their exit to Merlin. Merlin handed the horses’ reins to a waiting servant and followed him in.

Leon ran up to them in the corridor, looking simultaneously distressed and relieved. “Your Majesty—”

“Not now, Leon,” Arthur said, raising a hand. “Unless it’s an urgent matter, I’d like to rest first.”

Leon bowed his head respectfully, though it was clear he would rather interrogate Arthur the same as everyone else. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As soon as they reached Arthur’s chambers, Merlin sighed and sank down into a chair to take off his boots. “Would you like me to send for a bath now or in the morning?” he asked.

Across the room, Arthur was struggling to remove his armour, so Merlin walked over to help, one boot still on. Arthur exhaled gratefully and let Merlin attend to him.

“I’m not up for a bath just now, I think,” Arthur said. Merlin’s hands faltered as he placed Arthur’s armour on the table, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Arthur took hold of his arm and looked him in the eye. “It’s not you, Merlin. I really am just exhausted.”

Merlin nodded silently. He wanted to apologise again but knew just as well as Arthur that no amount of sorry’s would repair the damage he’d done. It hurt, but somehow it hurt less than when he’d been lying. Carrying that weight around had been unbearable; this, at least, was pain Merlin could live with for a while if it meant regaining Arthur’s trust.

“You should eat something,” Merlin said when Arthur began climbing into bed. “Bread, at least.”

“Merlin.”

“Just looking after your wellbeing,” Merlin muttered as he finished undressing himself.

Arthur was already lying on his side with his eyes closed when Merlin slid into bed. “You forgot to lock the door,” he mumbled.

Merlin sighed and regarded the distance across the room. The softness of the bed already had fatigue settling over his bones and it seemed too much effort to move at this point. He bolted the door with magic and held his breath while Arthur turned his head slowly to look at him.

“Is that alright?” Merlin asked hesitantly.

Arthur turned away again. “Yes. Might as well draw the curtain around the bed while you’re at it.”

Merlin willed the curtains to come together, closing around them in the bed. The fading light from the windows no longer reached them and it went dark.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was stopped by Lancelot on his way to Gaius’s chambers the next morning. The knight pulled him aside, into an alcove.

“Guinevere tells me Morgana is dead.”

“You just couldn’t wait until Arthur addressed everyone, could you?”

“Merlin.”

“Yes, she’s dead. I killed her.”

It had been easier than Merlin had thought it would be. Not the act of killing itself—he was much too hardened by now to feel any hesitation—but the killing of someone who had once been his friend. He supposed it was due to how angry she’d made him; former friend or not, she was the one who had stolen his dragon, overthrown Arthur’s kingdom, and threatened all he held dear. He could only be so lenient, his kindness pushed so far.

It had even felt strangely... _good_ to kill her. Something else Merlin hadn’t expected. The entire night he’d replayed the moment he thrust the sword into her and had had trouble falling asleep no matter how tired he was. It was a load off his shoulders.

“Does that mean Arthur knows?” Lancelot asked.

Merlin grinned, happy to finally give Lance an answer he wanted. “Yes. He found out before I managed to say anything myself. He took it better than I could’ve hoped.”

Lancelot smiled and threw an arm around him, bringing him into a hug. “That’s excellent news, Merlin.”

“It’ll be just a while longer before you can tell Gwen,” Merlin said once Lance stepped back. “Not too long,” he added hurriedly, seeing Lance’s fallen expression. “A few days. Or maybe tomorrow? I want to give things time to settle.”

Lance looked at him unimpressed. “Merlin.”

Merlin sighed. “Okay, we can tell her today.”

“That’s better.”

“Merlin!” Gaius exclaimed when Merlin entered. “I heard you two had arrived yesterday.” He pulled Merlin into a hug, then just as quickly cuffed Merlin’s ear. “That was incredibly foolish running off like that. I don’t know how you think you would’ve done it if Arthur hadn’t gone after you.”

“You mean without Excalibur? I could’ve just gotten any sword and had Aithusa—Ow!” Gaius hit Merlin’s shoulder and Merlin clutched it for show.

“Foolish,” Gaius repeated. “I’m glad you’re home safe, though.”

“I’m glad as well, Gaius.”

“Now, you and Arthur have started quite a bit of gossip. More so than usual I might add. On top of worrying about you two, it’s had Gwen rather stressed.”

Merlin looked away from Gaius and his arching eyebrow. It was one thing for others to bring up the worst-kept secret in Camelot, the scandal of his and Arthur’s relationship, and another for Gaius to. And though he didn’t feel particularly embarrassed about it, he did feel uncomfortable when Gaius referred to it.

Merlin had realised that their outing had more of a clandestine air to it than, say, a hunting trip. They had left in the middle of the night and been gone for days. Merlin hadn’t had the chance to hear any of the rumours, but no doubt someone had proposed the idea that he and the King had taken up in a tavern in the country or some other such isolated location where they wouldn’t be bothered.

“I can handle a bit of gossip, Gaius, you know that.” It’d been ten years, after all. “I’ll apologise to Gwen later, if Arthur hasn’t already.”

Gaius nodded and changed the subject. “How did Arthur take the news?”

“Better than expected. As you can probably guess, he was more upset that I’d lied than about the magic itself. He’s taken it well. He seemed himself in the bath this morning.”

Merlin blushed, feeling he’d said too much. But they hadn’t finished their bath in the usual manner anyway. It had been more relaxing and rejuvenating than sensual. Merlin had even felt loved for what he considered the first time, loved wholly and unconditionally now that Arthur knew the truth and had the ability to do so.

“That’s good.” Gaius didn’t say ‘I told you so,’ which Merlin appreciated.

“Did you need help with anything while I’m here?” Merlin asked. He walked over to the table and saw Gaius had started brewing several potions, which were bubbling nicely.

“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear boy, you’ve only just returned and I’m sure you’re not up to it,” Gaius admonished. “Go talk to Gwaine, he’s been looking for you.”

Merlin let himself be shooed away from the table. “He’ll be at the meeting Arthur’s holding soon. You’re to be there as well, actually.”

Gaius’s eyebrow raised again. “Oh?”

“The round table knights and Gwen are meeting in the royal council chambers before Arthur’s usual dinner.”

Gaius relented. “Then I suppose you can lend me a bit of your magic. Some of these I’d like to make a bit more potent than I’m capable of.”

“You know I’m not good at healing magic.”

“I also know there’s an endless amount of things you can learn. Come over here and bring that book there with you.”

Merlin groaned at Gaius’s need to never miss a learning opportunity, but inwardly he was glad for the normalcy after the past few days.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur was sitting at the table with his hands steepled in front of his mouth, unsure how to begin. He’d gone over various beginnings in his head but settled on none. He looked around the table, at his loyal knights, sitting straight and respectful—save, of course, Gwaine—and at Guinevere, who appeared as though she wanted to politely nudge Arthur to speak already. He looked at Gaius, whose gaze was wise and unwavering, the most patient of all of them, and at Merlin, who couldn’t seem to sit still or find a comfortable position.

“Merlin has magic.”

Merlin cringed at the forwardness, and immediately darted his eyes around the table. A few of the knights’ eyes widened in amazement, but Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon seemed unsurprised. Gaius was understandably blank-faced, but Arthur hadn’t expected Guinevere to be taking the news so calmly.

Merlin suddenly turned to him, an annoyed look on his face. “I wanted to tell them myself.” Arthur shrugged.

“I’m glad you finally decided to tell everyone,” Leon said. “Or rather, have Arthur tell everyone for you.”

Merlin looked more stunned than anyone at the table. “You knew, Leon?”

“I’m not quite as oblivious as Arthur. Meaning no disrespect, Your Majesty,” Leon added quickly.

Gwaine leaned back, folding his hands behind his head and grinning. “You’ve always been too cunning and resourceful not to have magic. You also may have mumbled something once or twice when you were drunk.”

“Lovely.”

“You don’t seem too surprised either, Guinevere,” Arthur said.

Guinevere smiled and shook her head. “I’m not. I knew someone close to me had magic ever since my father was healed. I always suspected it was Merlin since he’s so kind, but was never sure how to ask. When you first told us about Emrys, I was sure it was him.” She looked at Merlin, who Arthur thought might’ve been blushing. He wished he wasn’t sitting between them. “Things have also been different since I’ve become Queen. We don’t share the same closeness like we used to when we were both servants. There were many times I wished to approach you about it, but didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Merlin’s mouth opened and closed before he finally settled on, “I’m sorry.”

Arthur felt the tension between the three of them, and was glad the table was as rounded as it was, allowing a comfortable distance. He felt the unspoken agreement they’d all come to years ago, though he’d never quite noticed the strain it had put on Guinevere and Merlin’s friendship. Or maybe he’d never let himself notice it. Gwen was happy with Lancelot, but it must have been hard all the same to be in her position. Arthur was well aware that things were said about him, Merlin, and even Lancelot from time to time, but Guinevere’s being a woman made things so much different for some reason. It was why she was always the most distressed when the rumours were especially vicious.

Arthur stood and placed his hands on the table, getting everyone’s complete attention. “Merlin won’t be a servant for much longer.”

“I won’t?”

Arthur glared at him for interrupting, and continued. “When I address the court later today, I’ll be announcing my intentions. The ban on magic will be officially lifted a week from today and Merlin will be put on the Royal Council—”

“I will?”

“—as well as formally recognised as Court Sorcerer.”

“Congratulations, Merlin!” Gwaine cheered.

Merlin blinked, stunned.

“Those aren’t all my plans, but the rest you’ll all hear later with everyone else,” Arthur said. “I don’t think there’ll be any objections to Merlin joining the Council once they realise his mastery of magic, do you, Gaius? Guinevere?”

“Of course not, sire,” Gaius said.

Guinevere, smiling proudly at Merlin, shook her head. “No.”

Suddenly, Lancelot stood, chin held high with his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I said once to Merlin and I’ll say it again to all here—Merlin is the most loyal, the most loving and noble man I’ve ever known. He sacrifices everything for his friends and does whatever needs to be done to keep Camelot and her king safe. I’m honoured to have stood beside Merlin as Arthur’s servant and I’ll be honoured to stand beside him as Court Sorcerer.”

Merlin looked remarkably humbled and embarrassed, much like he wanted to disappear, but Arthur had never been more proud. Merlin’s embarrassment increased when Leon stood too, swearing the same oath to serve Merlin well, to protect him and fight for him, to strike down all who opposed him. One by one—Gwaine, Elyan, Percival—each of them stood and swore the same.

Arthur waited until all were seated again to move on. “With regards to Morgana: I’m sure you all know by now that Merlin and I killed her. I’ll explain here how, but I want no word spoken of it outside of these chambers just yet.” He waited for them to nod, then continued. “The beast attacking the villages before, the one we suspected to be a dragon—Morgana was indeed using it, but Merlin—”

“I took her back,” Merlin cut in, abruptly getting to his feet as well.

A shudder went down Arthur’s spine at the firmness in his voice, and Merlin no longer looked humbled or shy. He addressed the table with as much authority in his tone as Arthur, and Arthur was so in awe, the same way he was when he witnessed the naming ceremony of the druids, that he didn’t have it in him to care that he was being interrupted.

“Aithusa was a dragon I myself brought out of her egg, that I named and set free. I had no intention of letting Morgana get hold of her, and have no idea how she did. When I first heard the description of the beast I commanded her to come to me right away. It was she that led Arthur and me to Morgana’s hideout in the Northern Plains. We travelled all the way to Ismere to find her, and I slayed her in her sleep.”

“It’s the remaining Saxons I believe we should be on the lookout for,” Arthur said. “When compared to Camelot’s army, there aren’t many of them, and should be easy enough to handle.” The knights nodded. “They were being led by a druid traitor named Ruadan the last we heard, but it’s possible they’ve all disbanded. I won’t send out patrols until I think it’s necessary. With any luck, it won’t ever be.”

“The Saxons normally live in settlements just like the druids do,” Merlin said. “I have people who can keep an eye on things and send word if something suspicious is going on.”

Arthur nodded his approval. He was glowing inside at the turn this had taken. Merlin had advised him on things before, but always in private company, and never to this degree. It felt the way Arthur thought things should be, Emrys finally working with him.

Merlin hurriedly sat down again, as though just realising a blunder. Gwaine cocked an eyebrow at him, which Merlin ignored.

“Your Majesty,” Leon began, “with regards to Merlin’s change in station. You say a week from today it’ll be made official alongside the change in law. Surely he shouldn’t be treated as a servant in the interim?”

Arthur shook his head. “Certainly not. Before I was crowned Prince, I was still treated as royalty. From now until Merlin’s ceremony he’s to be regarded as any other noble in the castle.”

“Arthur…”

Arthur quieted Merlin with a hand. “Without a title, for now. I believe simply ‘Merlin’ will do.”

“I’ll look into having new clothes made,” Gwen said. Merlin winced.

“Thank you, Guinevere. Thank you all. You’re dismissed.”

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was used to stares. As a boy in Ealdor, he’d learnt to ignore the looks that followed him around, villagers furrowing their brow when they noticed Hunith’s gangly boy getting up to no good with that Will lad. It hadn’t been so bad in Camelot until he’d become known as Arthur’s illicit lover, but those stares too he’d grown accustomed to.

It was the stares he’d had to endure for the past week that he made his skin prickle in discomfort. _No wonder he was always kept so close,_ he could practically hear them thinking. Or, _There’s Merlin, the servant gone Court Sorcerer just because he’s a favourite of the king who happens to have magic._ He’d wanted to yell “Stop looking at me!” more than a few times.

Arthur was hardly any help. Things between them, though not unpleasant, were still strained. They slept in the same bed well enough, wrapped in each other’s arms as always, and they spoke in the same manner they always had, alternately joking and fond. Merlin had taken to telling Arthur the things he’d done over the years every night, like bedtime stories, as they lay in bed, Arthur never saying a word but listening intently.

But besides their nightly touches, there’d been nothing. No kisses, not even a chaste one; no looks of heated desire, not even when one or both of them awoke erect; and certainly no lovemaking. By the fourth day after their return, Merlin had taken to finding quiet moments alone with his hand. After having had physical love whenever he wanted for so long, he was starved for it when denied it now.

Merlin tried to occupy his mind with other things, mainly with his task of preparing the document meant to repeal the ban. Another servant had been given certain old duties of Merlin’s, a lovely and polite young man named Osmund who Merlin immediately took to, finding him both likeable and capable of being discreet. While Osmund cleaned the king’s chambers, Merlin sat at Arthur’s desk writing the speech, going over the ins and outs of the law which he’d then propose to Gaius and Arthur later on before consulting it again.

He felt oddly traitorous giving away the not-entirely-secret secret of cold iron and how it could be used to subdue one’s magic, but it was vital knowledge in case of the law being broken. Merlin wasn’t the most learned man, having been taught his letters from his mother and the Old language from Gaius, so many times when he was unsure of the phrasing of something he turned to Geoffrey. The old librarian was more helpful than Merlin had expected, and even brought out some lawbooks of old which Merlin could refer to. It was work which Merlin felt should be done in a few weeks, not one, but with his new free time there wasn’t much else for him to do. He threw himself into the work and was glad for it, could almost physically feel the progress being made.

Immediately after Arthur held court the day after their arrival, Merlin had word sent to the druid leader Doria about the ceremony, knowing she’d spread it to others, as well as relaying the message to watch for Saxon activity. Two days later, while being fitted for a new clothes, the messenger returned and confirmed that Doria and a few others would attend the event. They were pleased to hear the news, and were honoured that Lord Emrys had remembered them.

Now it was the day of the ceremony, and Merlin was restless. He paced his and Arthur’s chambers sweating under his new woven clothes. Arthur sat at the table, leisurely drinking his morning wine from a silver goblet.

“I like that black coat much more than that wretched brown one,” Arthur mused, chewing a piece of bread. “Better contrast.”

Merlin shrugged out of it and tossed it on the bed. It was a troublesome thing that fell all the way down to his calves, had too many belts, pockets, and buckles, and made him too hot.

Arthur sighed. “Will you please come sit and eat?”

“As if you weren’t just as nervous the morning you were crowned King,” Merlin said. He acquiesced though and went to sit across from Arthur. Arthur slid him a plate of sausages and Merlin suddenly found he was ravenous.

“I have a surprise for you,” Arthur said.

Merlin cocked his head. “What sort of surprise?”

Arthur looked at Osmund, who stood waiting should they need anything. “Bring her here,” he ordered. Osmund left immediately.

“Bring who?” And who of the female persuasion was a better question. Arthur would never gift Merlin a whore, at least Merlin didn’t think he would.

“Just eat, Merlin.”

Merlin shrugged, not troubling himself with it. He had three more sausages before moving on to the eggs. He had a mouth full of them when Osmund returned and he nearly choked.

“Mother!”

Hunith grinned upon seeing him and opened her arms as he rushed forward to hug her. “Merlin.”

Merlin could’ve cried with happiness. She looked older, more tired around the eyes and mouth, but still his ever-bright mother. Forgetting the distance that had been between he and Arthur the past few days, Merlin turned and hugged Arthur as well when he’d stood up.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Merlin said. “Come eat with us, Arthur always gets the best food.”

He pulled Hunith over to the table and made her eat the best of what was left over. Arthur remained quiet and aloof, though not rude and not unsmiling, letting Merlin have his fun.

“Look at you, Merlin, you look so handsome!” Hunith exclaimed, tugging Merlin’s sleeve. Merlin looked down at his clothes—his black trousers that certainly didn’t hang off his frame as the others did, but fit the way trousers were meant to; his deep blue robe not made of coarse, peasant fabric but of the same expensive material Arthur’s clothes were made of, and which came down to his knees, tied with a wide, black belt around the waist; his new, third pair of boots, more for appearance than function, which reached halfway up his calves and had a golden trim where the leather was laced together. Only his red scarf was what remained of his usual attire.

Merlin smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’m so proud of you. I know your father would be, too. You’ve grown into a good man.”

Merlin swallowed and avoided Arthur’s eyes. “I think… There are things I would’ve done differently. Not all the decisions I’ve made were the best I could have.”

Hunith put a hand on Merlin’s and looked at him sympathetically. “It’s impossible to know beforehand what consequences our decisions will have, Merlin. It’s hard enough for ordinary people and I can only imagine the strain you must’ve been under with no precedent to follow. We all make mistakes and it’s only hindsight that we see we’ve made them. Life is full of difficult decisions and we do the best we can.” She leaned back and picked up the goblet before her. “Do you really think anyone knows what the hell they’re doing? It’s all a guessing game!”

Merlin chuckled, feeling leagues better.

“You were so young when I sent you here, Merlin, barely out of your childhood. Whether you realise it or not, you’ve done remarkably well. And now look at you! That’s why I couldn’t be more proud.”

Merlin exhaled in relief, another weight off his shoulders. “Thank you, Mother.”

There was a knock on the door. “Your Majesty?” Lancelot’s voice. “It’s time.”

Merlin took a deep breath and stood. “Where’s my—Oh, thank you, Osmund.” Osmund handed Merlin his staff and coat with a small smile. He helped Merlin into it and Merlin finally let his gaze find Arthur.

There it was again, the light of love in Arthur’s eyes.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Merlin was a mess of nerves outside the Great Hall. Through the doors he could hear Arthur’s strong voice reading his words, publicly proclaiming Uther’s ban on magic unjust and unlawful. He wished he could witness it for himself, this momentous occasion he’d given everything for, but knew his time would come soon. The doors would open and he’d be made official Sorcerer of the Court under the new decree. That in itself was enough, the honour so great that Merlin still couldn’t believe it had really been bestowed upon him.

“To ensure the success of this ordinance will require one familiar with the schools of magic, one whose mastery of the discipline is beyond compare,” Arthur’s voice declared. Merlin’s heart started to race. “That is why today, in addition to enacting this law, we officially honour Emrys, known to many as Merlin, as the authority on all matters relating to magic in the kingdom of Camelot.”

The guards took their cue to open the doors, and Merlin squared his shoulders, going through a last-minute mental inventory of his appearance.

The moment Merlin entered the Great Hall, the assembled druids in the back of the gathering dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. A chorus of _Lord Emrys_ ’s echoed in Merlin’s mind as they respectfully greeted him. Those who had any doubt as to Merlin’s position before—particularly those who had stared at him the past week—certainly had no such doubts any longer. All those still standing glanced nervously at one another, not sure whether they too should kneel. Merlin fought off the rising unease and found comfort in the stabilising presence of the knights at the front, in Gaius standing near the pillar on the far side of the hall next to his mother. He gripped his staff tighter.

Finally stepping past the entrance, Merlin saw Doria nearest him, and walked over to her, urging her to rise with a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m glad to see you’ve made it, Doria,” he said. “But please, stand.”

The druids stood, and in each of their eyes Merlin saw adoration, devotion, pride. He wondered for the thousandth time what it would’ve been like to grow up among them, but perhaps that simply hadn’t been his destiny.

He took a subtle deep breath and went the rest of the length to where Arthur and Guinevere stood waiting in front of their respective thrones. He’d approached his closest friends so often before, but never like this. In all the knighting ceremonies he’d witnessed, he’d never once wondered what the person being knighted had felt like; he’d usually been more occupied admiring Arthur’s grace. His nerves were jittery, his heart pumping in his chest, and his stomach full of butterflies.

Merlin was grateful for his staff when he carefully lowered himself to his knees before his King and Queen. It was hard work to keep an idiotic smile off his face, especially when he could see the same struggle going on in Arthur’s face. Both of them wanted to break out into grins, which was hardly appropriate. Merlin could already feel the weight of everyone’s eyes watching, honing in on how affectionately they were staring at each other.

“Emrys,” Arthur began, and a shiver passed through Merlin hearing Arthur address him that way to his face, “you have been deemed fit for this high estate by your peers, and have indicated your willingness to accept this honour from my hands. Do you now swear by all that you hold sacred, true, and holy that you will honour and defend the Crown and kingdom of Camelot?”

Merlin nodded firmly, never more sure of anything in his life. “I will.”

“That you will honour, defend, and protect all ladies, and those weaker than yourself?”

“I will.”

“That you will be courteous and honour your peers?”

“I will.”

“That you will conduct yourself in all matters as befits a peer, using your magic only for just cause? That you will enshrine in your heart the noble ideals of chivalry to the benefit of your own good name and the greater glory of Camelot?”

“I will.”

To the right of him, Leon handed Arthur his sword.

“Then having sworn these solemn oaths, know now that I, Arthur Pendragon, by right of arms, king of Camelot, do dub you with my sword, Excalibur, and by all that you hold sacred, true, and holy...once for honour...twice for duty...thrice for chivalry...Arise, Emrys, Court Sorcerer.”

Merlin was shaky and breathless as he got to his feet, using his staff for leverage. The applause of the court had never seemed louder to his ears. Arthur finally allowed a smile to pass his lips so Merlin smiled as well. He couldn’t quite keep his as reserved, though. He turned and scanned the sea of faces for his mother, finding her next to Gaius. Both beamed with pride and affection.

Merlin wished to go to them instead of standing there at the centre of everyone’s attention, but remained where he was. When the clapping settled down, Arthur said, “Merlin shall not only have a seat on the Royal Council, but will oversee the training of those with magic who wish to serve Camelot as sorcerer knights. The Council will meet tomorrow in order to begin discussing the details. The rest of today will be spent in celebration, and there will be a feast in Merlin’s honour tonight, but for now… How about a demonstration of your power, Merlin?”

Merlin’s magic thrummed at being called to action, pulsing pleasantly in his veins. He could feel Arthur’s pride and expectation without turning to look at him, but turned anyway. Arthur was looking at him with admiration again, and even Gwen was nodding encouragingly. Merlin’s fingers twitched and he raised his free hand, letting his magic erupt.

The windows in the Great Hall flew open all at once, making everyone in the crowd gasp. Gales of wind poured in from both sides, whipping at clothes and causing the unlit chandelier above to shake perilously. As the controlled currents of air came together to form white, fleecy clouds, thunder like horses’ hooves began to sound, echoing deafeningly throughout the room. Even Merlin could feel the vibration in his chest as the roar crescendoed.

With one blast from the left, the clouds started to spiral and change shape. Definite forms began to be visible—legs, tails, long noses, and soon after, flowing capes, erect spines, proud riders. Camelot knights rode thunderously around the room on powerful horses, and the real knights themselves cheered, raising their arms in the air.

Merlin channeled the power of his staff, as his next spell required him to siphon energy from the earth and create new life. The thunder died away and butterflies swarmed from the palm of his hand, flying through the fading clouds and swirling in an array of colours, from the deepest red to the brightest violet. The children in the hall looked up with glee, reaching above their heads trying to catch them. Merlin willed the butterflies to arrange themselves in different patterns, first a spherical rainbow, then a blanket of fluttering movement. It was when they were arranged in the Pendragon crest that Merlin turned every single one of them red for a few moments before casting another spell to turn them all into rosebuds. They fell onto the crowd, who caught them or picked them up, gazing at them in awe.

 _Just one last thing_ , Merlin thought. The crystal in his staff illuminated vibrantly as he pushed all the magic he could into it, ready for the power to be amplified. He gripped it firmly with both hands and raised it high, then brought it down onto the stone.

The castle shook. Transparent, blue light radiated from Merlin and the bottom of his staff, sliding across the floor and up the walls. It enveloped everything in an iridescent glow, and Merlin pushed with all the magic at his disposal to make the spell extend as far away as even Camelot’s outermost walls. He covered the entire city in his magic, casting a protective enchantment over every house, every brick, every stone. Only with his death would the shield over Camelot fall.

Merlin blinked rapidly as the glow faded, feeling dizzy. He’d overdone it, he knew, but felt it was worth it. The druids, and probably anyone else in the city with the slightest bit of magic, would’ve been able to feel the effects of the spell immediately, but Merlin would tell Arthur exactly what he’d done later. For now he smiled and gathered his strength to keep upright, ignoring Gaius’s ever-raised eyebrow.

The whispers started almost instantly.

“—was amazing!”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Where did the butterflies even come from?”

“—see how bright his eyes glowed?”

Merlin suddenly felt Arthur’s hand on his shoulder, and as Arthur stepped up beside him, the whispers faded into silence.

“I have one final announcement,” Arthur began. Those in the court who didn’t already know waited with wide eyes. “Morgana is dead, and I cannot take the credit for it. I want to explain that the night we left Camelot, it was because Merlin had discovered her whereabouts and rode out to finish her. Naturally I wouldn’t let this idiotic manservant of mine do such a thing on his own, and rode off after him.”

Arthur’s hand ruffled Merlin’s hair and Merlin ducked his head, blushing at the gesture being done in public. He hoped the laughter of the court was at Arthur’s joke alone.

“It was at his hand that Morgana met her end, and Camelot owes him a great debt,” Arthur continued, looking at Merlin fondly. At Merlin’s right, Gwen appeared, smiling at him as well. “We shall all of us hold him in the highest regard and treat him with the reverence he deserves.”

Merlin’s stomach lurched at the prospect of being treated so nobly. He knew Arthur wished for him to be recognised for his achievements—which was certainly nice, and Merlin appreciated it—but there was recognition, and there was worship. Merlin did not wish to be worshipped.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” Merlin began carefully, fighting off another wave of weakness from his earlier display. “Everything I do, I do for Camelot.” _For you._ “I’ve hidden my magic and served you all these years in the hopes that your kingdom would one day thrive and flourish as it has.” _That you would one day thrive and flourish as you have_. “To see the time of Albion and continue to serve you is reward enough for me.” _Because I love you, you idiot._ “As the knights are loyal to you and to Camelot without need of being held in the highest esteem, so too am I.” Hoping to end on a lighter note, Merlin added, “I would however like a raise. And my choice of days off.”

Merlin was relieved to hear the court and Arthur laugh. Arthur slapped him on the back, smiling broadly, and said, “I’ll see what I can do.” Merlin rolled his eyes, leaning heavily on his staff to hold himself up. “You’re all dismissed,” Arthur said, addressing the court. “Let the celebrations begin.”

People began leaving, and Merlin wished he could do the same. He wondered if he even had the energy left to teleport back to bed. But over the din of the masses, Merlin heard Doria’s voice.

_How are you, my lord?_

Merlin searched her out and found her eyes where he’d seen her last, back near the doors. It wouldn’t be any use lying when he knew anyone with magic could feel the toll it must’ve taken on him to cast that last spell.

 _Fatigued, but holding up,_ he replied honestly. _Thank you._ She nodded, and Merlin noticed that almost all the druids were staring at him in both awed admiration and sympathy.

Merlin took a shaky step down, and suddenly the knights who hadn’t yet left were swarming around him, congratulating him. Merlin fought against the dizziness and tendrils of black edging into his vision and tried to manage a smile.

It was Lancelot who came to his rescue, the only one who knew him well enough to sense the strain in his expression. “Give him some room, come on men, that’s enough,” he said, pushing them back. “So he’s got a bit of magic, big deal.” Lance looked over his shoulder and winked at Merlin. Merlin smiled at him thankfully.

“Alright, Merlin?” Arthur asked behind him, speaking into his ear.

Merlin resisted the urge to lean on him. “The last spell…”

“I thought you were going to shatter the walls of the castle. What of it?”

“It was a protection enchantment. Over the whole city. I’m just a bit drained is all.”

“For the love of—” Arthur waved over Osmund impatiently. The boy promptly came over. “Take Merlin to his new chambers.”

“New chambers?” Merlin asked, looking puzzled.

“The Court Sorcerer can hardly sleep in the antechamber of the King’s room meant for servants,” Arthur explained. With no one within earshot, he added, “Don’t worry, we’ll work it out.”

“I’m not worried about it not working out. Gwen and Lancelot manage, don’t they?”

“To the new chambers, Osmund,” Arthur directed again. “I’ll come for you myself when it’s time for the feast,” he said to Merlin.

Merlin’s sorcerer chamber was much farther a distance than Arthur’s, but once he arrived, he didn’t mind having to walk the extra bit at all. He’d been in this part of the castle before, even up to this tower before, but it’d been in disrepair and not nearly as lavishly furnished. Bookcases lined the walls now, with every magical text in the castle on the shelves. Merlin wondered how Arthur had convinced Geoffrey to part with them and allow them to be relocated here, but was too busy taking in the other details of the room to dwell on it too much.

It was mostly meant to be a study and workroom of sorts, Merlin saw, because the bed was placed against the leftmost wall, much the way Gaius’s pallett took up an insignificant amount of space. Meant only to be used on the occasions he’d be staying up late then, after being so absorbed in his work that any place to rest his head would do.

On top of that, every item of magic that had been locked away in the vaults had been brought up here—the Mage Stone, the Crystal of Neahtid, the Cup of Life—every little trinket, totem, and enchanted object that Uther had kept stored underground because it was forbidden. There were chests full of things, pedestals for the most sacred items, and by the window Merlin even had his own scrying bowl.

On the desk, Merlin found his old things he’d until then been keeping hidden in his room in Gaius’s chambers. His spellbook and bestiary lay underneath the carved dragon he’d received from his father, and Merlin wondered if Arthur had looked through them, had read the notes he’d made in the margins both in the common tongue and the language of the Old Religion. It’d been a breach of his privacy, but it was also a touching gesture.

He’d look through everything properly later, as he was too tired to now. He walked over to the bed and began undressing, jumping a bit in surprise when Osmund’s hands appeared to help him. He let the boy take away his clothes and fold them neatly on a square table beside the bed before he finally collapsed, pleasantly surprised at how comfortable the bedding was.

O===[]::::::::::::::::::>

Arthur felt all talked out by the time he went to get Merlin for the feast. He’d spent the day conversing with druid leaders, with townspeople who had magic and wanted to personally thank him, with nobles who claimed they’d always known something was special about Merlin, and countless others.

The druids praised him and wished him well with his endeavours to unite Albion, swearing their allegiance to both him and Merlin. They appreciated his questions about magic and the Old Religion, and responded enthusiastically, taking care to be thorough in their definitions. A rare few regarded him with a slight bit of disdain, clearly ones who believed Arthur should keep to the governing realm and let Emrys handle the magic, but they were civil enough. It certainly opened Arthur’s eyes to a few things, one of them being that not all druids were as peaceful as they were made out to be.

The townspeople varied as well. Some had come from villages more than a day’s ride away and some were from right in the lower city. Arthur was surprised at how many there were, and felt he couldn’t apologise enough for the strain and oppression they’d been under for so long. It was truly a burden that had weighed heavily on him, and had Camelot the resources for it, he would’ve given them all reparations without a second thought.

The nobles Arthur wanted to wipe away like horse shit on the bottom of his shoe. Not one of them knew a thing about Merlin, had more than once sneered at him or made jokes about him, and it disgusted Arthur that they would gush over him now. He was used to such falsities of the court though, and entertained them as long as he dared let himself before risking exploding.

Finally, he had excused himself as the food for the feast was being brought out. He took the shortcut through the servants’ corridor to Merlin’s tower and arrived quickly. He knocked on the door that only Merlin’s magic or his own personal key could unlock, then let himself in.

Merlin was draped across the low bed to the left, his chest rising and sinking steadily with each breath. Arthur closed the door behind him and knelt down, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and shaking him gently awake.

“Merlin.”

Merlin’s eyes opened and found Arthur’s. He blinked lazily, licking his lips, and raised a hand to rub his eyes.

“Already, huh?”

Merlin sat up and Arthur brushed down the sleep-tousled side of his hair. He wished he could let Merlin keep sleeping, but there were expectations to be met.

Arthur got to his feet and gave Merlin space to stand, looking around the room while Merlin dressed. The last thing he needed was to get aroused before having to go out in public again.

Arthur liked the room, really he did, but the amount of powerful magic in one place was very much like it had been in the tunnels beneath the Fortress of Ismere. The air crackled with energy and made his hair stand on end.

He walked over to the desk and picked up the wooden dragon, fingering the smooth texture. He’d wondered if Merlin would mind his having brought the item here, and hoped it had been seen as the gesture of goodwill it was intended to be. He didn’t know where the little dragon had come from or why it was important; he only knew that it had been hidden away with Merlin’s other personal possessions and therefore carried significance.

“Thank you for this,” Merlin said behind him. Arthur turned to see him fully dressed, just finishing up with his belt. He kept his eyes down, head lowered as he threaded the leather. “I know you haven’t completely forgiven me yet. I didn’t really feel I deserved it.”

Arthur crossed the room and picked up Merlin’s coat to hand it to him. The truth was that after hearing Hunith’s words that morning about Merlin being thrown into the situation so young—He’d been sixteen when he arrived in Camelot? No, seventeen—Arthur had found he couldn’t hold his grudge as long as he’d thought. He’d already been to war and taken entire lives by the age of seventeen, had led raids on druid camps and burnt villages to the ground because his father had ordered it. He’d wished for a chance to do things over, do them right, so many times himself. He had once promised a druid boy possessing Sir Elyan that he would do better toward his kind in future, and had been lucky enough for his apology to be sufficient. Merlin had also promised as much, and the least Arthur could do was extend the same courtesy.

“Perhaps Merlin didn’t deserve quite as much just yet, but Emrys certainly did. We’ve said enough thank you’s, I think, Merlin. Every night this past week you’ve told me all you’ve done since you arrived, and I think it’s more than enough to deserve forgiveness. We’re equal now.”

The Adam’s apple in Merlin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and nodded. His eyes looked eternally grateful, glistening with tears that he wouldn’t let fall. When he spoke, however, he tried to keep it light, to not acknowledge how deeply Arthur’s words affected him.

“Yes, I suppose that’s one thing I admit to always wanting. As long as I was a servant, there was no way you’d ever see me as an equal no matter how many times you said it. There was never anything special about me,” he finished with a wry smile.

Arthur felt stupid looking back at the referenced conversation now. Of course Merlin had felt he was ordinary in Arthur’s eyes if Arthur didn’t know the truth, how powerful he was, how _truly_ special. Merlin had been going for light and brought out something heavy. It didn’t change anything, though.

“You’re wrong, Merlin. Your magic doesn’t make you special, it just explains you. Without it you’d mean just as much to me.”

“I can’t even imagine what I’d be like without it,” Merlin muttered. “I _am_ magic.”

“Then don’t try to imagine it. Just know that it makes no difference in regards to my feelings for you.”

Merlin seemed surprised when Arthur leaned in to kiss him. Arthur hadn’t intended to himself, but his body appeared to be acting on its own desires. When their lips touched, slotting together and working perfectly in sync, Arthur’s body hummed in satisfaction. He pressed his chest close to Merlin’s and placed a hand on the small of his back.

The kiss changed entirely when Merlin raised his own hands to bracket Arthur’s face and force their lips harder together. With a flick of tongue he asked for entry into Arthur’s mouth and Arthur gave it to him, sensing his desperation. Merlin shoved his tongue inside and with a tilt of Arthur’s chin he was taking all Arthur gave, claiming what had always been his and what always would be. The powerful swirling of wet muscle made Arthur’s blood flow faster, and he fought the urge to push Merlin back on the bed and straddle him.

 _Shouldn’t be doing this,_ Arthur chided himself. Then Merlin pulled away, wild-eyed and with glistening lips, as if he’d heard Arthur’s thoughts.

“That’s the first time you’ve kissed me since you found out I’m Emrys.”

The statement seemed impossible. Arthur knew he and Merlin had been at odds before taking off for Ismere, but could it really be…?

Arthur kissed him again, this time throwing himself at Merlin as passionately as Merlin had at him. A thrust of Merlin’s hips had Arthur moaning at the pressure on his cock, and somehow he ended up being pressed against the desk, though when they’d traversed the room to meet it he had no idea. The next thing he knew, books were falling over and his legs were hitched up, wrapping around Merlin. Merlin’s hands slid under Arthur’s tunic, caressing up his back and pulling him closer, and Arthur was long past starting to get hard—he was almost completely erect and ready for Merlin to go down on him at this point.

“M-Merlin,” he panted. “The feast.”

Merlin groaned. He detached his lips from Arthur’s throat and stepped back.

“Damned feast,” he grumbled, magicking his discarded coat over to him.

Arthur chuckled. “Don’t worry. You can have me afterwards.”

Merlin grinned cheekily, and Arthur was happy to see the expression on his face again. He leaned in to nose at Arthur’s neck and said, “I was hoping you’d take me tonight, actually.”

 _Gods._ Arthur forced himself to exhale slowly. The thought of taking Merlin, after seeing him display all that power earlier today, after seeing back in the Northern Plains what he could do, made Arthur want to have him right then and there. He’d never considered it much of a privilege being able to have Merlin that way, having always thought of Merlin as, well, just a man. The weight of what he’d been taking for granted for so long was staggering. He had to physically push Merlin away and break the contact.

“Let’s go to the feast,” Arthur said. “Now, before we never make it there.”

Merlin nodded and quickly went about straightening himself before putting on his coat. Arthur did the same, and made a mental note to have a mirror brought to the room later. They left as soon as they declared each other presentable.

If anyone noticed their slight tardiness, they were respectful and didn’t mention it. Tables were lined in rows in the hall and the windows were open to let in a bit of fresh air. There were more people than Arthur could count seated at each table, knights and druids and nobles alike together and having a good time.

Normally Arthur would stand at the head of the room, get everyone’s attention, and say a few words before letting them get back to eating, but he passed on it tonight. He could tell that Merlin had had enough said in his honour, and he himself was eager to have the rest of the required festivities out of the way so they could celebrate in private. Arthur took his seat next to Guinevere at the royal table and Merlin sat on his other side, doing well not to look too uncomfortable as a servant poured him wine.

It became easier to enjoy the time the more Arthur drank, just enough to have his worries pushed to the back of his mind. He laughed at the jokes he overheard his knights telling, rolled his eyes at Percival when next to him Gwaine took up with a druid woman who refilled his goblet with magic, and even stood up to make the rounds and ensure everyone was enjoying themselves. Gaius was thoroughly engaged in his food, always one for taking advantage of the more richer desserts served at feasts; Hunith was pink-cheeked and merry, constantly shooting pleased smiles Merlin’s way; and even the servants seemed to be having fun, more than a few of them taking offered sips from those they served.

When Arthur returned to Merlin, he was deep in conversation with one of the druid leaders who’d moved to sit at the corner of the table. Merlin was nodding and shaking his head at turns, but Arthur couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying; their mouths didn’t move in the slightest, as they communicated the way Merlin and Aithusa had. Most likely it was easiest to hear each other that way over the noise of the hall.

Merlin glanced at Arthur as he approached but didn’t take his attention away from the druid woman. Arthur took his seat again and pecked at his food, finding it significantly cooled. Beside him, Guinevere was talking with Lancelot, leaving him no source for conversation. He refilled his cup himself and took a long swig of wine.

The druid speaking to Merlin left not long after, and Merlin turned to face forward again. His left hand darted out to hover over Arthur’s plate, making Arthur start in alarm, but when smoke began to rise from the food, Arthur understood. He nodded at Merlin gratefully.

“What did she want?” Arthur asked.

“The druids brought gifts for me,” Merlin said around a bite of food. “You know the mark they all have on their skin? I don’t have one. She offered to have one of their ritualists mark me—”

“And you said?” The idea of Merlin’s skin being tattooed, being made as unique outside as it was inside, was one Arthur hoped would come to fruition.

“I’m going to think about it. I wasn’t born a druid or raised among them. It doesn’t feel right.”

Arthur kept his thoughts to himself and bit into his chicken. “The other gifts?”

“Magical totems and such,” Merlin said, waving a hand. “Objects of magic they’ve held safe since the Purge that they’d be honoured to see in my possession. Enchanted jewellery. A wife.”

Arthur nearly choked.

“They know about us,” Merlin said. “But they want to see my power passed down to an heir, even if I choose not to have the child raised here. Why is everyone asking me to have children lately?”

Arthur could sympathise with the pressure Merlin was being put under. He had a few clever schemes up his sleeve himself for when he felt the time was right. Lancelot was so noble and willing to serve that he didn’t mind the idea Arthur had once proposed, the four of them in a bed together. Arthur’s ideal situation would be for Merlin to fuck him from behind while his own cock was lodged inside Guinevere, Lancelot tending to her upper half for support. Arthur didn’t see why the same couldn’t be done in Merlin’s case—Arthur fucking him until he spent inside whatever druid woman ended up being his wife, or at the very least siring his child.

The trouble was that though Arthur had a fierce jealousy, he’d grown up in the royal court and knew the necessity of certain things, the sacrifices that had to be made. There was no such curtail to Merlin’s view of things, who would rather be infinitely loyal to Arthur and have the power inside him fade with his last breath than raise a child who didn’t have a drop of Arthur’s blood.

“You may change your mind later,” Arthur said carefully. “You never know.”

Merlin looked at him oddly but said nothing. Arthur changed the subject.

“How are you feeling? Are you well-rested enough?”

Merlin chuckled and nodded. “A few years ago I might’ve needed more time to recover but it seems I’m powerful enough now that my body can handle such a strain. It may have also helped just being in that room, surrounded by all the magic. It was very healing. I assure you I’m more than refreshed enough for the rest of the evening,” he finished with a wicked grin.

Arthur wished again that he could speak to Merlin without doing so aloud; there were more than a few things he’d say were it not for present company, and already that look Merlin was giving him was dangerous to do in public. Then, seeing the glint in Merlin’s eyes and the flush of his cheeks—not entirely due to wine—Arthur remembered that he and Merlin so rarely did need the use of words to communicate.

They didn’t stay much longer. There were a few minor displays of magic from the druids, to which Merlin responded with his own and earned applause for. He left shortly after that, teleporting and blinking out of sight to who knew where. Arthur hoped it was his chambers. He waited until a few of the knights began leaving to follow.

Osmund started to trail him to his room, but Arthur put a stop to that in the corridor. “I won’t be needing you until morning,” he said. He stopped and turned, looking the young lad up and down. It was remarkable how much his wide eyes and eager-to-please expression reminded him of Merlin at times. “And since this is your first feast, I’ll give you a bit of warning: don’t let any of the other servants try to put too much work on you when you’re cleaning up later. You’re the King’s manservant and you rank higher than all of them. If anything you pass off _your_ duties.”

Osmund nodded and looked grateful for the information. “Yes, sire.”

“Goodnight, Osmund.” Arthur turned and hurried through the empty corridors to his chambers, waving away the guards in front of his door.

He could feel that Merlin was here the moment he stepped in. The atmosphere was different somehow, heavier. He took off his jacket and threw it over a chair, bent down and took off his boots, then walked round the drawn curtain of the bed to where he was certain Merlin was waiting.

He wasn’t disappointed. Merlin lay naked atop the red sheets, one leg bent at the knee with his foot on the bed, while he leisurely admired the flower Arthur had given to him weeks ago. The multicoloured petals shimmered in the light as Merlin spun it between his fingers, the stem as healthy green as ever. It paled in comparison to Merlin, however, whose lean limbs and muscled chest were bathed in a blue glow from the floating orbs above, lights the size of thumbnails that twinkled like stars. Arthur had never felt more drawn to him.

Merlin smiled fondly at him then put aside the flower and rolled onto his knees, moving to the side of the bed to fiddle with Arthur’s clothes. “Come on, then.”

Arthur raised his arms over his head as his tunic was pulled up with magic and Merlin undid the laces of his trousers. With the clothes cast aside, Merlin lay back on the bed, opening his legs invitingly. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Merlin already had something lodged inside him.

“Where’d you dig up that old thing?” he asked.

The last time Arthur had seen the polished wooden dildo was years ago. It’d even been a joke between them at first, when Merlin had found it locked in a box beneath Arthur’s bed. Arthur had always taken the commanding position with his hired male partners before Merlin came along, because a Prince simply couldn’t submit. He’d satisfied those desires by himself. Merlin had teased him about it when he found out, then promptly teased in another way entirely after he offered to change things up in bed for the first time. For weeks after that, it’d been “Would you like my cock tonight, sire, or would you prefer your little wooden friend?” always accompanied by Merlin tugging on his dick tantalisingly in front of him.

Merlin grinned and reached down between his legs to pump it in and out a few times, inhaling sharply and shuddering when he caught the right angles. “It was still where I hid it last, back in your old Prince’s chambers,” he confessed breathlessly. “Can’t believe I didn’t— _nngh_ —think of it before. I could’ve been getting myself all nice and st-stretched out for you for ages.”

Arthur leaned forward and pulled Merlin’s hand away, quickly pinning it above his head as he pressed his weight down on Merlin’s body. There was a flicker of doubt and uncertainty in Merlin’s eyes, just barely noticeable in the glow of the hovering lights inside the curtain.

It was just like him to guess the meaning behind Arthur’s actions, to wonder if Arthur really had forgiven him and if he wasn’t yet permitted to be so free with his words. Arthur rolled his hips once, sliding his hard cock against Merlin’s and grunting. Merlin’s lips parted and he shakily inhaled.

He pushed up and flipped Arthur on his back, and Arthur only let him because he could sense the desperation seeping through Merlin’s control. Merlin straddled him and pushed their lips together forcefully, running a hand up Arthur’s chest and then back down to take hold of Arthur’s cock.

“Arthur,” he gasped, rutting against Arthur’s thigh. “Please.”

Merlin wouldn’t say the words. Sometimes he’d ask—tell—Arthur to fuck him, to give it to him so hard he screamed, and sometimes he couldn’t. Arthur had long since figured out that those were the times Merlin needed just a bit _more_.

He grabbed hold of Merlin’s hair hard enough bring tears to Merlin’s eyes and yanked his head to the side. Merlin’s eyes squinted and his lips spread as he hissed at the pain. He panted and looked down at Arthur pleadingly.

“You think you’re so powerful, Merlin,” Arthur said, voice full of disdain. “You must think nothing can stop you when you possess animals at will and call down your dragons. You know what I think? When you throw your head back and roar in that language that sounds like absolute nonsense? I see your mouth go all wide and think you really ought to have something shoved in it. You’re just an ordinary man who happens to have a bit more magic than others. You really just belong on my cock, don’t you?”

Merlin made a high, whimpering noise in his throat and nodded. Arthur pulled on Merlin’s hair again, directing him downward.

“Get your mouth on my cock, you worthless idiot.”

Merlin lost no time doing as he was told. He settled between Arthur’s legs, arse raised high as he bent over him. He swallowed down Arthur’s dick and drooled over it, twisted his neck to run his tongue around the side before sliding back up and licking the tip. As soon as it was wet enough, Merlin bobbed up and down on it like he was starved for it, the muscles in his neck bulging with the enthusiastic effort.

“Fuck,” Arthur breathed and let his head fall back. The heat and suction of Merlin’s mouth was so good Arthur already felt heat building in his thighs. Every time Merlin slowed and twirled a sloppy tongue around the head, a spike of pleasure shot through Arthur, making him gasp and tense.

The moment Arthur was about to tell Merlin to stop—preferably before he came—Merlin pulled off and looked up at Arthur, eyes wild, lips swollen, and face flushed. His hair was in disarray from Arthur’s fingers and Arthur loved seeing him so wrecked.

“Face the headboard,” Arthur ordered before Merlin could say anything. Merlin turned and slid a hand under the pillows, bringing out the oil, then parted his knees as Arthur took it from him. Arthur raised himself up and had to admire the view of Merlin’s arse. The sloping curve of his back, from rounded shoulders to the dip of his spine, led beautifully down to pale cheeks and firm thighs. Merlin arched more, pushing back and begging wordlessly for Arthur to get on with it.

Arthur ran a hand up Merlin’s right thigh, over the swell of his buttocks and down to where the slick wooden rod was still keeping him open. Merlin clenched and unclenched around it as Arthur watched, teasing him. Arthur planted a hard smack to the left cheek, and Merlin put his face in a pillow and moaned.

Just a brief loss of touch for Arthur to open the phial of oil and put a bit on his cock, then he carefully started sliding free the instrument Merlin had plugged himself with. Gods, Arthur had forgotten how long the thing was, not to mention thick. It seemed to go on forever, and Merlin shuddered blissfully, sighing as Arthur pulled it out. When it finally popped free, leaving Merlin’s hole winking and stretched, Merlin grunted.

Arthur put a bit more oil around the rim, easily fitting two fingers inside as well. His cock twitched in anticipation. This was going to be one sloppy fuck, one Merlin so clearly needed.

He shuffled into position, aligning with Merlin’s entrance, and slowly pushed inside, letting Merlin’s heat envelope him. He was just over half buried when he slid out and thrust back in, shoving deep enough and hard enough to make Merlin gasp. Merlin spread his knees further apart and lowered his chest even more, raising his arms to grab hold of the headboard. It made his arse look so perfectly fuckable that Arthur gripped Merlin’s hips and started giving it to him in earnest.

“Oh! Oh gods, oh yes, ohhh!”

Arthur gave a forceful push, burying himself to the root hard enough to have Merlin keening and white-knuckled. He took his hands from Merlin’s hips and placed them on either side of Merlin’s body, leaning forward until he was close enough to breathe on the back of Merlin’s neck. He fucked Merlin in quick, shallow thrusts, relying on the muscles in his thighs to keep up a steady pace, and Merlin rocked beneath him, moaning and quivering.

Arthur had to slow after a while, take a few breaths and bring himself back from the edge. He trailed kisses up Merlin’s shoulder, over the divot in his back and across to the other one. Merlin lowered his arms, tucking them in, and rested his cheek on the pillow as he panted.

“Better?” Arthur murmured, nuzzling behind Merlin’s ear.

Merlin’s lips twitched in a slight smile. “Yeah. Needed this. After everything…”

He didn’t have to finish, and Arthur was glad he didn’t. After the lies, the time that had passed, the burdens, the adventures. Arthur had never seen Merlin look so relieved; not in sleep when his face lost all its tension, and not in the bath when he was most content. Merlin seemed to have reached some higher plane of happiness, and literally appeared to be glowing.

Arthur slid his arms under Merlin and hooked his hands over Merlin’s shoulders, lifting him up just enough so he could get a firm hold. Merlin moaned appreciatively at the shift, and reached back to grab a fistful of Arthur’s hair as Arthur started rocking into him again. Arthur wondered how much longer he could last, especially after Merlin made a low sound in his throat, saying, “Ahhh, _fuck_. Going to make me spend like this, Arthur.”

It was when Arthur felt something— _something_ —on the back of his neck that his rhythm faltered. It was warm, and spread over his shoulders and down his back, like the feeling of wine working its way through his system. He wondered if it _was_ the wine he’d drank earlier, but he hadn’t drank all that much. He felt it reach into chest, go down into his legs and the tips of his fingers.

“Merlin—”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin apologised breathlessly. “My magic, it… It’s always wanted to reach out for you, every time. Is it okay?”

It was more than okay. It felt like hands caressing him all over, like silk rubbing across every inch of his skin. On top of that, there was a distinct Merlin quality to it, cheeky and fond. It nudged between the cleft of Arthur’s arse, brushing over his hole and slipping the tiniest bit inside. The slippery tendril of warm magic felt so good Arthur worried he’d come right then, but something was keeping him right on the edge, not letting him finish until Merlin did.

“It’s perfect,” Arthur said. “I love it.”

His permission caused what felt like an inner explosion. The force of it was staggering. It pulled him toward Merlin like the tightening of a leash, and knocked the wind out of him. His vision went hazy and his body pulsated as Merlin’s magic flowed through him.

Then suddenly it was over, the tide of power having crashed over him and settled. Only there was something left over, some new knowledge that he’d been gifted with that let him look at Merlin and see him with entirely new eyes.

Merlin was happy. He was happy about his mother being in Camelot and Aithusa being under Kilgharrah’s protection, happy that Mordred hadn’t ended up being lost after all and that Arthur would live up to his destiny. He was happy that he’d killed Morgana and that Arthur knew about his magic so he could love him properly, happy that he could use it freely in front of Arthur and especially happy that Arthur was fucking him. He wanted to get on top and ride Arthur’s cock like a wild animal, though of course he had dignity and would show restraint. He wondered why he could suddenly feel all the same sensations Arthur felt and if Arthur could feel his—

“Oh!”

Merlin whipped his head around to look at Arthur with wide eyes. Arthur slowly pulled out and sat back on his heels, holding a palm flat to his chest where the heat was still the strongest.

“I think,” Merlin began, looking puzzled. He shook his head and started over. “I know that there are rituals for that sort of thing, but… I didn’t say any spells…”

“Merlin. What did you do?”

Merlin held his gaze steadily, breathing heavily as he leaned back on his elbows. “I think I bound our souls together.”

Arthur could sense Merlin’s worry, and even that Merlin could sense Arthur sensing it. He didn’t need to ask what being bonded together like this meant. He was attuned to Merlin the same way he always had been, only more acutely. He couldn’t hear what Merlin was thinking, but he could certainly feel what he was feeling.

Arthur moved to lay beside Merlin, back on the pillows. He jerked his head toward his cock, wordlessly telling Merlin to go on then. Merlin smiled and threw his leg over Arthur, sitting astride him and slowly sliding Arthur back inside.

“Nnng,” Merlin moaned, rolling his hips and letting his head fall back. He didn’t do slow and sensual for long, too eager to start bouncing and take Arthur’s cock at his own needy pace. There was more Merlin wanted to do (he wanted to anchor his hands and feet on the bed and slam down onto Arthur’s cock hard enough that it would hurt him to sit the next day) but he didn’t dare, and the thought of Arthur’s reaction alone made him blush. Arthur, however, now intimately aware of Merlin’s desires, sent the wordless message through their new connection encouraging him, no, _telling_ him, to do it, to fuck himself with wild abandon and to hell with how he looked because he’d always look delicious to Arthur.

Merlin laughed. “Delicious?”

Arthur gave a punishing thrust upward. “Shut up.”

Merlin responded by sending Arthur images of himself, how he looked in the morning with the sun falling on his tanned skin and blond hair, his lips pouty in his sleep. How his hair stuck out in all directions but was endearing— _not ridiculous_ —to Merlin, and how it made Merlin want to spend all day in bed with him. He thought Arthur looked a little delicious, too.

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin.”

Merlin chuckled. He leaned back on his hands, triceps bulging with the effort to hold his own weight, and raised his legs to place his feet on either side of Arthur’s body. He lifted and lowered his hips frantically, panting and moaning at the new angle. His straight cock bobbed up and down with his drawn up balls, shifting with his movements.

“Oh, fuuuuuck,” he whined. He finally indulged himself and slammed down, the slap of flesh the loudest one of all in the past few minutes. His head fell back again, exposing his Adam’s apple, and he kept up the brutal motion of his hips, up, down, roll back, up, down.

“That’s it, Merlin, take it, fucking take it,” Arthur urged.

Every slight touch of skin against skin was heightened because of Merlin’s unintentional spell, so of course with Merlin’s pleasure added to his own, Arthur didn’t feel he could last any longer, and apparently neither did Merlin. He pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s torso, bringing their chests together. He held Merlin close as they both came, Merlin’s mouth stretching open in a silent scream while Arthur bit his lip. It was unlike anything Arthur had ever experienced, more intense and body-shaking than any orgasm he’d ever had, and he wondered if they’d all be like that from now on.

“Gods,” Merlin breathed, going limp and falling over Arthur’s shoulder. “My arse is done for about a week.”

Arthur thought about asking if his little bottom was sore, but Merlin’s slap to the side of his head kept him from opening his mouth. He laughed and carefully eased Merlin off of him to get a cloth from the washbasin.

Merlin was lying on his stomach with his head pillowed on his arms, twirling the flower in his fingers again when Arthur returned. Arthur was gentle as he wiped over Merlin’s abused hole, and now when he performed the action of care he could sense how loved and pampered it made Merlin feel. He thought about teasing Merlin about it, but then he realised that Merlin knew he liked doing it, liked taking care of him, so he let it lie.

“Here,” Merlin said, handing Arthur the iridescent flower. Arthur took it and studied the petals more closely. It’d been dying much slower than a normal flower before, but even then it should’ve been dead by now. The colours shouldn’t have been so vibrant, the petals not at all wilted.

Merlin had to have brought it back to life, or at least restored it from its last legs. Glancing at Merlin, who was smiling at him with glazed, tired, but loving eyes, Arthur felt instinctively that that was exactly what Merlin had done. He could feel Merlin’s magic in the flower, could identify its signature if he focused hard enough.

Arthur put it in a vase on the table then returned to the bed. The glowing orbs above had started going out one by one, until only three were left to let Arthur see by. He crawled beneath the duvet but left his arms out for the moment, still too hot to be under entirely.

Beside him, Merlin sighed contentedly. Arthur could feel the waves of relief rolling off him, how now he’d be able to wake up and not be assaulted with feelings of guilt, but could be happy without consequence. The soulbond would take some getting used to, but it was also the most perfect feeling in the world, the two of them becoming one.

“Candles, Merlin,” Arthur said tiredly, letting his eyes shut. Every candle in the room went out with a subtle flick of Merlin’s magic and Arthur prepared to let his body succumb to sleep after a long day.

Merlin yawned. “Do you really think about shoving your cock in my mouth when I cast dragonlord spells?”

Arthur chuckled. “I admit it was a passing thought.”

“I hope you know I’ll never be able to do them without thinking of that now.”

“Good.”

As Merlin sighed again and shifted closer to drape himself over Arthur, Arthur felt Merlin’s worries start to creep in. He took hold of Merlin’s hand and entwined their fingers, pressing into Merlin’s skin the sentiment that everything would be okay, better than okay.

They would be brilliant, as they were destined to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Fic playlist [here](http://neuroticnick.tumblr.com/post/113223770592) if you're interested.


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